A Dash of Herb
by Caos Gal55592
Summary: It's more terrifying than Negaduck, stickier than sap, and nearly impossible for one mutant-plant-duck to get rid of. It's... The Door-To-Door Salesman!  Rated T to be safe.
1. The Game Begins

A/N: Hello! This is my first Darkwing fic and also my first multi-chapter fic. (Oh yeah, it's special.) Anyway I'll shut up now soon, but first- I do not own Darkwing, he and all others in this story belong to Disney. Yep, it sucks. Now without further delay…

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Chapter One

"Let me see here," the massive figure surveyed all that was around him, looking for his next unfortunate target. There were not many structures around this part of town. No matter, he always was up for a little challenge. It had been a while since his hulking figure had preyed upon an unsuspecting citizen of St. Canard, and so today he would be ready to try anything.

He wiped his brow, the sun was a scorcher today, or so it felt to him. He was not allowed in his usual garb during his hunting hours, his superiors would not tolerate that. He did not blame them, what he did was a noble and esteemed job, to him at least. For you see, he did not find his calling to be the bringer of pain and desecration that his victims found it to be. In fact, he was oblivious to their evident pain at his arrival, continuing this near blissful ignorance until his task was carried out. This beast was quite certain of his purpose and the need for people like him. He shifted his the substantial case below his mighty arm with a groan. In the case were the keys to the success of his purpose, his goal, but it was awfully heavy.

Our gargantuan put the case down and sat upon it heavily, continuing to survey the land that laid before him. He turned himself around on his makeshift throne to see a hill, and atop it was a rather large greenhouse. He contemplated it, scratching his head as he did so. It was a stretch, trying to find an appropriate victim in a greenhouse, but it was the only edifice in sight of his gaze. He got up laboriously from his seat, lifted the case up under his arm, and set out to the greenhouse, ready to fulfill his task.

His ponderous footsteps shook the ground as he approached the glass doorway. He peered inside, looking for signs of life. He saw a clock on the wall, Twelve o'clock sharp. As he looked, his eye caught sight of a figure, on the opposite of the green house, looking out the window. He smiled to himself, raised his hand, and knocked.

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Dr. Reginald Bushroot, unaware that the ill-placement of his greenhouse was bringing him unsurpassed horror, was busy concocting yet another formula to help his friends in the floral world. Big surprise from the half plant-mutant-botanist, I'm sure. If he got the mixture right, the formula would be able to boost the stamina of the more fragile flowers. He smiled at that prospect to be able to let his friends continue their lives longer and, he thought with a wry grin, if his work load was cut down alongside it he wouldn't mind in the least.

_**If **__you get the formula right,_ he reminded himself as he poured some dangerously bubbling liquid into an even more dangerously steaming topsoil. He held his breath, with no major problem as he really did not need to breathe to live, as he stirred the concoction with a large metal spoon. "One full turn right, then left to reverse the coagulation of the chemicals, quarter-turn, back again, left, right, left, left-no right!" he mumbled his homemade instructions to himself, focused on the task. After a good minute of meticulous stirring he gently placed the bowl that contained his newest creation into a patch of sun that was on the table. Now all he had to do was wait five hours for the formula to settle.

He sighed and glanced at the clock. It was Twelve noon. Five hours, what was he going to do with five whole hours to kill? The Liquidator had already taken care of his plants earlier that day. He smiled when he remembered the kind surprise from the H2O based dog. At the time Bushroot had thought it was great because watering all of his "children" took a lot of time away from his day. Now he wished he _did_ have something productive like that to do. He sighed again and his smile all but vanished. Looking outside, he saw what a nice day it was, even if it was a little on the hot side. Maybe he would take a walk. Spike, his dog-like venus fly trap, would enjoy a walk. His pet had, once again, been shrunk to the size of a dog by one of his experiments, and was also much more energetic than usual.

He got up from the workbench that he had been at during his experiment and stretched. A walk would be nicer with someone to walk _with_. _Someone that can speak_, he amended as he glanced at Spike, who was happily chasing butterflies around the begonias. The Liquidator was gone for the day, doing some big heist that he had been planning for a while. Only Heaven (or Hell) could possibly know where the other members of the Fearsome Five were. And may the Lord forbid that he would get desperate enough to even try to contact that ego maniac Darkwing. It was at times like this he wished his friend circle was bigger than Four villains, one ego-centric super hero, and the rest of the plant kingdom. He gazed back outside, _I just kinda wish I had someone to talk to right now._

Just as the thought went through Bushroot's mind, a knock came at the greenhouse's door. With a slightly awestruck glance at the Heavens, the flustered botanist hurried to the green house door. Through the glass he saw it was a large, out of shape duck, grinning goofily and trying to get a look into the greenhouse through the door. The duck was wearing a suit, and his tie had an extremely tacky print on it. He had a rather large carrying case underneath one arm, the other arm was being worn out by his -slightly- obnoxious banging on the door.

Knowing that if he didn't answer the door soon he'd have to steal a new one, Bushroot walked up and opened it. For a moment there was silence, Bushroot staring at the large duck, the large duck staring at Bushroot and then,

"Howdy there buddy!" The man reached out one huge hand and grabbed Bushroot's leafy one in a bone, or in this case stem, crushing handshake. The big goofy smile that had been on his face got bigger and, horrifically, goofier as he said, "The name's Herb. Herb Muddlefoot. I'm a salesman for the Quackerware comp'ny and boy do I gots some deals for YOU!"

Bushroot winced at Herb's loud, bumptious voice while his vine-like arm was nearly plucked from his body like a flower from a bush. "Um, w-well you see I really d-don't need any-" he stammered, trying to explain, but was cut off by the oblivious salesman.

"Mind if I come in?" He said as he proceeded to do so, completely ignoring Bushroot's sullen "Yes" as he was pushed passed. The Muddlefoot menace then began to unload the case onto one of Bushroot's lab tables, the one that just happened to have the formula on it.

"Hey! Watch where your putting that stuff!" Bushy shouted and ran over to the container. As gently as he could, he lifted the bowl and set it among some cacti that were in the full heat of the noonday sun, giving them strict orders to keep it safe. He turned to the annoyance, crossed his arms, and looked at him, tapping a root against the dirt floor in aggravation.

Meanwhile, having set up his wares, Herb was taking a chance to look around the greenhouse. "Wow mister! You've got yourself some mighty fine plants here," he looked down at the now fuming Bushroot and his smile dropped slightly, his face taking on a puzzled look to it, "Say now mister, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

Bushroot blinked in surprise at this. Was this man just figuring out who he was _now_? He could not believe that anyone could be so dense, it wasn't like he had a face you could forget. Of course this Muddlefoot was proving him wrong. Shaking his head, Bushroot straightened his back, trying to look assertive, and stated with as much malice as he could muster, "_I_ am Bushroot, Dr. Reginald Bushroot! Plant manager, villain, and member of the dreaded Fearsome Five." He smirked, surely _that _would scare the oaf away.

However, to Bushroot's complete amazement, the salesduck's goofy smile came back into place and he smacked Bushroot heartily on the back, nearly sending him careening into the dirt. Herb laughed his nauseatingly loud laugh, "I knew that I had seen ya from somewhere old Bushy-buddy. Now answer me this. As a super villain you need to keep things in containers sometimes, right?"

The sheer stupidity of the duck in front of him had momentarily struck Bushroot completely dumb. He felt himself numbly nod in confirmation to the question. Herb winked and then dove into a sales pitch.

"Well then have I gots some deals for you," he repeated the same line that he had used at the door and grabbed one of the containers on the table. "Now look at this fine specimen of tupperware," he proceeded to shove it in the plant-duck's face, as if he couldn't see it from a reasonable two feet away, "Guaranteed ta make sure that your leftovers won't leak! A steal as twenty-nine ninety-nine! But wait, there's more!"

"Oh I really hope not." Bushroot groaned as Herb went meticulously over each product, alerting Bushroot of such dire information as the functions of the Loose Cap Three Thousand -'Tha latest in ice cream storage technology'- and the Whiffle Whip -'Tha only whip that'll 'whip' those tough eggs into shape'-. Bushroot was also treated to Herb's reincarnation of what his wife, Binky, had thought about each and every product on the line. Bushroot slowly grew to hate Herb and his 'Binkykins' with a passion. He glanced up at the ceiling again, with a slight sneer. The universe, or who ever was running the show up there sure had a sick sense of humor. He _had_ wanted someone to talk to. Of course this "Herb" was far from what he had in mind.

"OKAY!" Bushroot shouted, cutting off the fat duck in mid-pitch, "I'll buy some of these containers. Okay?"

"Oh boy! Now won't my Binkykins be pleased with that! What did you have in mind Bushy-buddy old pal?" Bushroot pointed at a few things at random, hoping he could get some use out of them at least as flower pots. He watched in agony as the fat mallard totaled up his amount. It came to fifty dollars even. Bushroot winced and reached inside a bag of loot that was almost empty, mourning the loss of fertilizer that the money he was giving away would be able to buy. However, once the fat duck had the money, he showed no signs of leaving. In fact he sat down!

Sighing in contentment from a job well done, Herb started to talk, "Really appreciate it Bushy-buddy you know that all of my sales this year are going into a vacation fund? Oh yeah, I'm hoping to take the little misuses and the kids on a whopper of a relaxer this summer. Summer is really getting close I know, and my funds aren't really there but I think-"

"Um yeah that's great," Bushroot cut off the duck, "but shouldn't you be going now?"

Herb looked at the clock, which was now showing Twelve Twenty-seven, and shrugged, "Oh gnaw! I figure I have some time to spend. Besides I haven't even shown you pictures of my kids yet!" And with that Bushroot was tugged down next to the nuisance and spent the next thirteen minuets looking at pictures of two kids and hearing what had to be the most boring baby stories ever about them. Those thirteen minutes felt like an eternity to poor Bushroot.

At Twelve Forty Bushroot had begun to get desperate. After faking an excuse to get away from Herb, he called Spike and quickly scribbled a message onto a small piece of paper.

_I have a big problem at my greenhouse. Please come quickly. I'm at the end of my rope! Help!_

_- Bushroot_

After sealing it in a plastic back so that no drool would get on it, he knelt down and put it in Spike's mouth. "Go get this to Liquidator, quickly. He might be the only one that could help me right now," he mumbled to the fly trap. He heard his name being called by Herb from the other side of the greenhouse and hissed, "_Hurry_."

He watched Spike scurry off for a moment, pushed himself from his kneeling position with a grunt, and headed back to his unwelcome house guest. When he arrived he saw that Herb had been exploring, and now the salesduck was standing next to a medium sized metal box.

Herb had found the T.V.

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"Quackerjack give that back to me right NOW!"

There was chaos inside the Fearsome Five's warehouse hideout as an angry Megavolt chased a cackling Quackerjack around the premises. Quackerjack held a light bulb in one hand, the other gripped loosely around the handle of a pogo stick that he was bouncing around on, and was staying out of the furious rat's reach. The rat, Megavolt, was simultaneously screaming, running, and shooting electricity at Quackerjack, trying to get his precious bulb back.

"Give her back! Don't worry Socket I'm coming! Quackerjack you let her go!"

A mischievous gleam came into the already crazy eyes of the demented toymaker. He jumped up onto one of his monster-truck sized teddy bears and looked down at Megavolt with a chuckle, "Let her go?"

Megavolt stopped and warily nodded his head. He was having trouble believing that Quackerjack would come around so quickly.

The toymaker laughed and let the bulb hang upside down, holding onto it with only his thumb and index finger, "Ooooookay! You want me to let her go?"

Megavolt's frazzled brain put together what Quackerjack meant a moment before it happened. "No no no! Wait that's not what I-"

"Going DOOOOOOOOOOWN!" the jester yelled and dropped the bulb.

"No!" Megavolt screamed and dove for his plummeting friend. Unfortunately at that moment the Liquidator had glided into the room, only to see Megavolt lunging at him. Neither of them had anytime to react and they collided, making Megavolt short circuit and the Liquidator to burst into a puddle. The bulb landed harmlessly two feet away on another of Quackerjack's, much more normal sized, teddy bears and rolled to the floor.

Quackerjack himself was in stitches as he looked at the mayhem he had caused. Megavolt got up shakily while the Liquidator pulled himself together, literally. Once the liquid canine had reformed, he spun around to face the dazed rat. His watery eyes were narrowed in distaste. "Nine out of ten physical therapists recommend for an eclectically charged rodent to _not_ run headlong into The Liquidator after he has been defeated by Dripwing Duck on a heist. Not only is it hazardous to your health, the side effects are _most_ unpleasant." He growled in his salesman jargon, advancing on the wet rat.

"It wasn't me it was Quacky! He had Socket and- Wait. Socket!" Megavolt looked around, alarmed. He spotted the light bulb on the floor and quickly snatched it up, holding it protectively against his cheek, soothing it, "Shh it's okay you're not with the mean Quackerjack anymore. No you're not. It's okay."

Cocking an eyebrow the watery dog looked up at the hysterical duck on top of the teddy bear. "Tired of your old routine? Want to get your ass kicked? Then try Quackerjack's handy 'How to piss off your partners in crime' instructional training. Guaranteed to end you up in the hospital, or your sanity back," the canine growled as he began to climb the bear. In a fortunate turn of events for the toymaker, Spike arrived. Knowing his master wanted him to hurry, Spike wasted no time with Megavolt, who was still sitting on the floor comforting his light bulb, and went straight for Liquidator.

The venus fly trap nudged against the canine's watery calf, snapping the Liquidator from his plans of vengeance. His ears perked up in curiosity when he saw the dog-like plant. "Well, if it isn't Spike, Reggie's one of a kind companion, not likely to be available in pet stores near you. What are you doing here?"

As if he could understand the sales jargon, Spike spit down the plastic covered message.

_What's this?_ Liquidator picked up the message and read it. His ears pinned back and a burble of discomfort came from his throat.

From above, the high pitched voice of Mr. Banana Brain piped up, "What's got you out of whack, Jack?" Putting the doll back into his pocket, Quackerjack descended from his perch and snatched the plastic bag away from Licky's watery grasp. Quackerjack gasped dramatically as he read, pulling out Mr. Banana Brain who asked the dog, "What are you going to do, Stu?"

"Do with what?" came Megavolt from the ground, joining reality again. He put the bulb away in a cardboard box before walking over to the two villains. Liquidator, who had pulled the note away from Quackerjack with a growl, said, "It seems that profits are plummeting for our green partner stocks."

"Wha?"

"Bushy's out of whack, Mack!" Mr. Banana Brian clarified as Quackerjack nodded in agreement.

"Out of whack?" Megavolt rubbed his head, "Bushroot's in trouble? How?"

"Our current information is too vague. The message was very short. Courteously delivered by the ever efficient venus flytrap mail delivery service! Rain, sleet, or snow, nothing stops this plant." Liquidator quipped as he headed for the door, Spike at his nonexistent heels.

"Where're you going?" Megavolt asked.

"Bushroot's. Where else?"

Grabbing his pogo stick in one hand and Megavolt's wrist in another Quackerjack shouted, "We're coming with you!"

"We are?" asked the still damp rat sliding out of the crazed jester's grip.

"Coming or not, do it fast. Reggie's need for help could be for a limited time only. Act now!" And with that he swirled out the door, Quackerjack and Spike close behind. Megavolt followed mumbling about only coming if he could recharge before they got there.

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_Master is troubled._

_Not good._

_The fat duck is troubling Master._

_Should we do anything?_

_Should we Master?_

Bushroot heard the whispers of his children around him. He sighed, which was hard as his lungs were squeezed between the arm of his small sofa and Herb. _He really could stand to lose a few pounds. _He then directed his thoughts towards the questioning plants, _No, don't do anything. He's not so bad. The last thing we want is to hurt him and then to have him go running to the police. I guess this is could be considered home invasion on Herb's part... But who would believe me? Besides, Licky should be here soon._

He looked at the clock, it read Twelve Fifty-five. It was amazing how fifteen minutes with Herb seemed like hours. They had been watching Herb's favorite show 'Pelicans Island'. Supposedly, there was a marathon on and the salesman had made himself comfortable in order to watch all of it. Apparently the thought of huffing from door to door in the heat appealed to the hefty duck much less than watching his favorite show for free. Not to mention Herb had proclaimed that Bushroot looked like he could use, 'Some educational T.V. and comp'ny'. He scoffed silently, if he wanted this kind of education he would've gone to clown college._ I wouldn't wish this guy on anyone! Well... maybe Darkwing Dunce but what are the odds that __**he **__of all people would ever meet Herb anyway?_

Noises at the front of his greenhouse made his hopes soar. Wriggling out from next to Herb, Bushroot excused himself for a minute. He rushed to the front and saw Liquidator standing inside his greenhouse, he hadn't bothered to knock of course, with an anxious look on his face.

"Thank God!" the plant manager shouted and hurried to his partner in crime.

As soon as the Liquidator saw his leafy friend, his look of concern transformed into his trademark cocky, charismatic smile. He ruffled Bushroot's petals, "Dangerous intruder in your home? Not sure what to do? Call the Liquidator! Expert at exterminating pests big or small. Where is it?"

Bushroot smiled, his own worry melting. He gestured behind him where Herb was. The door-to-door salesman was unable to be seen through the heavy foliage but they could hear the sounds of Bushroot's television, "He's at the television. He-" Bushroot began to explain, but the Liquidator had already gone to inspect the problem with a swish. It was then that Bushroot saw that Quackerjack and Megavolt had been standing behind the Liquidator in a fierce argument that had to do with some sort of socket. Bushroot cleared his throat to alert them of his presence. They looked up at him. Mr. Banana Brain was the first to speak.

"What's going on, John?" he asked as Megavolt shot the puppet a look of loathing. He hated Mr. Banana Brain.

"Yeah, what's this all about?" the rat followed up after he had finished giving the doll the evil-eye, "Need anything fried?" His gloved right hand sparked at the idea.

"N-no. No frying required. I just needed Liquidator to help me with something."

"What?" Quackerjack asked, getting in the plant's face, who could only stutter and stumble backward. Meanwhile, Megavolt was looking at the assortment of containers in the table, "What's with the Quackerware?"

Bushroot had just opened his mouth to answer when Liquidator's gurgling laughter reached them. The plant-duck's eyes widened and he dashed to the scene. What he found was not encouraging. A hysterical Liquidator was on the floor while a smiling Herb looked down on him confusedly. "Oh Hey there Bushy-Buddy! This your friend?"

At the sound of 'Bushy-Buddy' the Liquidator was thrown into another fit of laughter. "This was your emergency? He- he- he's a door-to-door _salesman_."

Bushroot's face began to turn a darker green as he blushed. Behind him he heard Megavolt and Quackerjack sniggering. He crossed his arms and looked at the laughing puddle on the floor, "Finished yet?"

"Okay, okay I- I'm sorry," Liquidator said as he got up, trying to smother his laughter, "Reports show that when you said you had a big problem, The Liquidator thought it was an actual _problem_."

"Ha ha, I _do_ have a problem," Bushroot said glancing at Herb, the conversation was flying over the oblivious duck's head. "He's my problem."

"You got a problem Bushy-Buddy? What is it?" Herb asked, settling back down on the sofa.

"Yeah _Bushy-Buddy_," Quackerjack's glee-filled voice piped up, "what's your problem?"

"Maybe he's discovered that he's allergic to tacky clothes," Megavolt chimed in, noting the pattern on Herb's tie. The three villains burst into hysterical laughter again, this time joined by Herb, who was completely unaware of what the joke was about. Gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes, Bushroot walked over a distance and motioned for his three mirthful associates to join him. They walked over, still chuckling, and he tried to explain.

"Look, I know it seems impossible, but I can't get rid of this guy."

"Of course, what use is one scientific college graduate with super powers against the mighty force of an unintelligent salesman." Megavolt said sarcastically, earning him a growl from Liquidator.

"The Door-to-Door salesman is not to be confused with the superiority of the average -or not so average- salesman in question." the Liquidator sated, defending his reputation, "The fine print clearly shows both the minute and extremely great differences to the two. I could get him out of here in a flash."

Bushroot glowered at him, "Then why don't you try it then, you're so smart?"

"I will." The Liquidator sloshed over to where Herb was sitting. Putting on his most convincing smile the Liquidator began, "Hey there! Love to watch T.V.? Tired of the smell of mulch and fertilizer? Then why waste your time here when you can enjoy a full television watching experience from the comfort of your home? Go now! Go today!"

"Well, I don't think my Binkykins would like for me to come home so early." Herb said scratching his head. "She'd want me out working."

"Then what are you doing here? In your business it's all about location, location, location! This is hardly the place to find any new customers."

"Yeah I guess you're right. I'll just go then." To Bushroot's complete astonishment Herb got himself off of the couch and started toward the door. Liquidator had just turned a smug smile towards his leafy friend when Herb stopped.

"Wait a minute!"

Liquidator's smile vanished and he and the three other super villains looked at each other uneasily. Herb turned and looked at the three newcomers with new hope in his eyes. "Hey Bushy-Buddy doya think your friends would be interested in some Quackerware?" Without pausing to hear Bushroot's answer, he went to the table and began, "Well then boys, have I gots some deals for you!" After three minutes of his sales pitch the villains regrouped, whispering.

"Okay, okay so he's a harder customer than I thought. So sue me." Liquidator said defensively to the I-told-you-so look that Bushroot was giving to him.

"Why don't you just tell him to get lost?" Megavolt asked.

Bushroot rolled his eyes, "You don't think I tried that? He either ignored me, thought I was being funny, or it just completely went over his head. He's making my petals droop with stress."

Quackerjack, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation, suddenly chuckled with glee, "This is great!"

"Please enlighten me as to the humor here," Bushroot said, looking at the crazy toymaker incredulously.

"Weeeeeell, what makes everything better?"

"The Super-Powered Energy Saving Light Bulb Polisher Five-Thousand?" Megavolt guessed.

Quackerjack stuck his tongue out at the light bulb obsessed rat and hissed, "Guess again."

"Money?" Liquidator guessed with a shrug.

"Nooooo but close!" Quackerjack teased.

"Just tell them your plan, Stan!" squeaked the voice of Mr. Banana Brain from Quackerjack's pocket. "Fine fine, spoilsport." Quackerjack huffed, but he forgot about his mood when he motioned them closer. After he glanced at Herb, who was lost in the world of his sales pitch, Quackerjack told them, "A game!"

Bushroot slapped a leaf to his beak. "How is a _game_ going to get rid of Herb?" he asked, his panic causing his normally low voice to raise a notch.

"Because, I suggest that we have a little competition to see who can get this guy out of Bushy's house and keep him there!"

"Ah ah ah! As any good enterprising villain will ask. What's in it for me?" the Liquidator piped up, his greedy money loving side kicking in.

"Not only will it be oodles of fun and Bushy here will have one less pest in his house, the winner will get..." Quackerjack thought for a moment, "Aha! The winner gets all of the loot from the losers in the next big heist Negaduck plans!"

The Liquidator's watery eyes seemed to light up, "I'm in."

"Me too I've always wanted to try roasted duck." Megavolt's hand sparked again as he chuckled maniacally.

"Hold it, hold it." Bushroot held up a leafy hand, "Before I go along with this crazy scheme we need some ground rules."

"Aw! Like what?" Quackerjack pouted as Bushroot stated his terms.

"Okay first off, no maiming. The last this I need is for one of us to get rough with him and have him tromp off to call the police."

Quackerjack frowned, and muttered, "No fun." However the Liquidator was ready with a loophole.

"How about accidents? Say this Herb _accidentally_ slips on my puddle like form out the door and breaks his hip, or there is a slight miscalculation on a super bounce ball demonstration? If he gives the O.K. then management cannot be responsible for any subsequent maiming that may follow."

To Quackerjack's great delight Bushroot nodded. "Fine, but it has to be unable to be called anything but an accident. My only other term is no killing the man."

"Oh come on! A roasted duck is just the answer for your problems here!" Megavolt whined.

"No, I'm not having death on my hands again." He thought sadly of the last time murder had crossed his path, "And even if I don't do it personally it's still on my property and therefore I would still be held responsible."

"Fine, fine we agree to all terms." Quackerjack said impatiently. the other two villains nodded as well, devious smiles coming onto their lips. "One more thing, no game is funner than one with a time limit. How long do we have Bush-brain?"

Bushroot looked at the clock, it was five after one "Just about four hours, I have a very delicate experiment to continue after that."

"Oh goody! That gives us each an hour!" Quackerjack squealed, only to be shushed by his team mates, "And it leaves us an extra hour besides."

"What?" Bushroot looked puzzled as he stared at the demented duck.

"Well _you've_ already had your hour so you're done." he said, ignoring the plant-duck's protests and pushed him over. "I'll go first with a time penalty since we ran over with our little chat. Now," he chuckled as the group, minus Bushroot as he was still mumbling angrily on the ground, turned around to face the still oblivious Herb Muddlefoot, "It's Plaaaaytiiiiime!"

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A/N: Okay! That's it for now! Good? Bad? Please review to tell me how I can make this better or anything I might have goofed up on or forgotten. Thanks for reading!

:Update: I'd like to thank Irule for pointing out a minor bobble in this chapter that I have now fixed. So... Thank You!


	2. Herb Trap

A/N: Okay. Here is the next chapter! Darkwing and Co. are not mine. They belong to Disney, 'nuff said. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter Two

"Ouch! SON OF A B-agpipe", Drake Mallard ended his intended curse weakly as he rubbed his head, glaring at the pipe he had just banged it on. Climbing out from under the sink, Drake was faced with the simpering face of his neighbor, Binkie Muddlefoot. He had just come from stopping Liquidator from a bank heist as Darkwing, ready for a good nap he might add, and was confronted by the silly housewife. Needless to say, it had been the last thing he had wanted to do.

"Oh are you alright Drake?" she asked, trying to help him up.

"Yeah I'm just _peachy_." Drake snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he yanked his arm, somewhat unkindly, from the woman's grasp. Seeing her hurt expression, Drake softened, "I'm sorry Binkie. It's this stupid sink that is getting me worked up." He didn't mention the fact that she wouldn't _shut up_ while he tried to fix _her_ sink was contributing to his mood. Of course, anything that brought him into speaking range of his annoying neighbors put him out really.

Binkie Muddlefoot was automatically appeased with his explanation and shoved her answer to all medical or emotional problems on him. One of her terrifyingly sugary cookies. "Here dear you look famished, eat this and take a break for a while."

Giving in to the inevitable, Drake sighed and took a seat at the Muddlefoot's kitchen table. When Binkie wasn't looking he jumped up, shoved the cookie into the jar again, and sat back down. Meanwhile his host, oblivious to the operation going on behind her, was chattering up a storm. "oh you know Drake it was so nice of you to lead a hand around here. I normally would have had Herb do thing kind of thing, he's quite handy you know, but Herb is out selling Quackerware right now so when the sink broke I was just in _such_ a predicament. So I thought to myself 'Well why don't you go ask Mr. Mallard for some help. He's handy enough, not quite as handy as my Herb of course, but very good with _little_ fix-it jobs like this."

Drake had tuned her out as soon as he could. At the moment he was picturing the poor soul who was dealing with Herb and his Quackerware at the moment. Now _that _was a fate worse than death. Besides, it was a hot day and Herb could be such a freeloader sometimes. Hadn't the hundreds of times his T.V. had been taken over by the large mallard shown that? Herb could be quite the nuisance if you didn't know had to handle him. He was snapped out of his thoughts as Mrs. Muddlefoot asked him about the sink. Sighing inwardly, Drake prepared for the dive back under the monstrosity known as the Muddlefoot's plumbing. Right before he did he cast one last thought to the people that Herb could be terrorizing with his annoying antics. _Lord help them_, he thought, but, seeing the cookies that Binkie was ready to force on him when he came out, the thought quickly turned into, _Lord help me_.

()()()()()()()()()()()

_Lord help me_. Bushroot thought as he watched Quackerjack set up some sort of maniacal contraption that was supposed to get Herb out of his foliage. His leafy hand drummed nervously on the work table he was sitting at with the two other villains. No one was offering to help the insane duck. After all, they each wanted him to fail so they could give it a try. Though Bushroot had taken it upon himself to remind the giggling duck every so often about the rules to his "game", resulting each time with some sort of whine about spoilsport plants. The mutated botanist didn't pay any attention to it however, he wouldn't put it past the demented toymaker to break the rules just because he thought they were boring, or that he simply forgot about them.

Beside the nervous plant sat the Liquidator and across from him was Megavolt, both wearing identical expressions of boredom on their faces. The Liquidator let out a gurgling sigh. There hadn't been too much action yet. It was One-Forty and Quackerjack had already wasted twenty minutes setting up his, supposedly safe, contraption. The first fifteen minuets of Quackerjack's time had been wasted in a fruitless, yet hilarious, attempt to bore the fat duck away. Turning his watery head he looked and saw that Herb was _still_being entertained by the Mr. Trivia Buff doll that Quackerjack had set on him. Liquidator let out a burble of mirth, catching Megavolt's attention.

Following the H2O dog's gaze Megavolt let out his own snort of laughter. "The only person who would ever even like that toy turns out to be the guy that Quackerjack wanted to annoy with it. Who knew that dope would like useless trivia so much."

"Hey, watch who you're calling a dope." Bushroot warned, not taking his eyes off of Quackerjack, as if the clown would sneak in something dangerous when he wasn't watching.

"What? You feel bad for your little house guest?" the electric rat asked, sneering.

Reluctantly taking his eyes off of Quackerjack, Bushroot shook his head, "Of- of course not. I just don't think-"

"What would you say if Bushroot told you he wanted us to let Herb alone? Would you be skeptical? Would you be amused? Or would you be plainly dumbfounded in disbelief that someone would _want_ to keep that pest around?" Liquidator butted into the conversation, his dark blue eyes gleaming mischievously.

"I don't want him to stay around, no! But I-"

"Then keep your beak shut." Megavolt cut him off and Liquidator added to the statement by dousing the plant with water.

Bushroot sputtered and turned back to watch the toymaker in a huff, while Megavolt and the Liquidator snickered. Now that the fun taunting Bushroot was over, the two villains lapsed by into silence, bored again.

Their silence didn't last for long as Quackerjack had just been putting the finishing touches on his contraption. With a squeak of excitement he almost danced over to his waiting companions, who were now looking at what the crazy duck had set up. It looked like a demented form of something you would build with the "Mousetrap" board game.

It started on one side of the room with a string attached to the power button on the T.V. The string led to a gutter drain that was balanced precariously on top of the handles of two rakes, a shovel, and a very large pair of pruning shears. On top of the gutter were several of Quackerjack's super bounce balls that the toymaker always had handy. At the end of the gutter was an extra large whoopee cushion that was pointed at a tower of building blocks. This tower was, miraculously, holding up a metal cage. In front of the couch Herb was sitting on stood ten muscular teddy bears which all had wind-up keys in their backs. These keys were all tied to yet another string which was attached to Quackerjack's faithful rocking horse. Behind the couch was a boogie board and on the floor below the cage was a giant red X.

"Really pretty Quacky but what does it do?" Megavolt voiced the opinions of them all as they looked at Quackerjack's contraption.

"Oooooh! I was hoping you'd ask!" the jester giggled as he clapped his hands. He straightened up and cleared his throat, "Gentlemen, may I draw your attention to the string placed on the T.V.'s power button. Now when I press the switch to turn on the T.V. the string shall set the bouncy balls into motion. All of the balls will then proceed to roll down, down, down the gutter where it will hit the whoopee cushion. The air of which will topple my Tower of Toy Terror! And when the Tower goes boom it will release the cage.

"Meanwhile, after having pressed the switch I will rock the horse into motion, making the keys pull out of my teddy bears. Once that is done the bears will push the couch over, plopping our fat feathered friend onto the boogie board, which will send him careening under the cage, which will be falling at _just _the right time and SNAP! Muddle-fuddle is trapped under a cage that I don't have the key for. To get out we'll take him, and his Quackerware, to a locksmith and ditch him!" Quackerjack, having kept himself composed long enough to give his speech, fell to the ground laughing.

"Quackerjack that plan is crazy!" Bushroot groaned slapping a leaf to his beak.

"DUH!" Quackerjack snickered as he got up, "But my brilliant plan _does_ have a set back." He glanced at the Liquidator, the bells on his hat had stopped jingling.

"Inquiring minds want to know. What is it?" the ex-salesman asked suspiciously, his eyebrow cocked.

"Well, you see Licky, it's like this," the jester put an arm around the watery canine as best he could, "to get the boogie board to slide, I need water. _And _I've already used Bushy's hose to hook the tower to the cage." Quackerjack ignored Bushroot's gasp of horror and continued watching the Liquidator carefully, "Soooo I was wondering if you would be a pal and help me out, you being made of water and all."

The Liquidator kept quiet except for a disdainful snort and sloshed out of Quackerjack's "friendly grasp". Quackerjack pouted, "Oh c'mon Licky. This won't work without you! Besides, it's already One Forty-eight. I only have twelve minutes left, please, please, please, Please, _PLEASE_. I'll be your best friend!"

"Hey I thought _I _was your best friend." Megavolt gasped, as he looked at the toymaker with a hurt expression on his face.

Quackerjack waved him away, "Hush Megs, I'm trying to bribe someone here. How about I let you keep your part of the loot when I win?"

Liquidator looked at the jester, a smile playing on his wet lips, "Half."

"Haaaaaaalf," whined Quackerjack, his mouth pulling into a pout, "no fair!" When he saw that the Liquidator wasn't budging, he nodded.

"Excellent choice! The Liquidator's talents are at your service." the super villain boomed in his upbeat jargon as he got into the position that Quackerjack indicated. But under his breath he added, "I'll comply to the terms stated. I'll make the board slide. _Where_ it slides is a whole other matter, and management is not responsible for any accidental _miscalculations_." The Liquidator was out for himself first and foremost, and why should he settle for _half_ of the loot promised when he could get _all_ of it?

Unaware of what Liquidator was plotting, Quackerjack had sauntered over to Herb, who was still "playing" with the Mr. Trivia Buff doll.

"World War II, or the Second World War, was a global military conflict lasting from 1939 to 1945 which involved most of the world's nations, such as Quacktopolis, Beakapotamia, and many more. These powers organised into two opposing military alliances: the Ducklies and the Duckxis." the toy spouted as Herb pulled the string back.

"Hoo boy! Wouldya hear that! Old Drakester will just love all of these insightful facts about the Second World War," he was just about to yank the string, which had never gotten this much use in its life, when Quackerjack walked up to him.

"Heeeeeey pal!" the jester shouted gleefully as he pulled a cartwheel in front of the couch. "I think Mr. Trivia Buff needs a rest. Don't you?"

"Well I uh-"

"Great!" Quackerjack snatched the doll out of the door-to-door salesman's hands and tossed it over his shoulder. "Now, what should we do?" he put one hand on his hip and the other under his chin, the picture of deep thought, "I KNOW! How about we watch that show of yours. Pelican's Island was it?"

"Oh yeah! Great idea Quack-a-roonie!" Herb said,he had made up annoying nick-names for each of the four frustrated super villains. Bushroot had been dubbed Bushy-Buddy, Quackerjack was Quack-a-roonie, Megavolt was- to his complete surprise and anger- Sparky, and the only person that Herb had not _technically _given a nick-name was the Liquidator. Though Herb messed up his name every time he said it, stubbornly refusing to call him anything but the Liqui_na_tor, which bothered the H2O infused canine to no end.

The large Muddlefoot began to get up and reach for the power button, "I'll just turn on the ol' tube here and-"

"NO! A-hem I mean no no Mr. Muddlefoot," he said, trying to stay calm as he shoved the mallard back onto his seat, "I'll get it. It's plaaaaytiiiiime!" With a fiendish chuckle Quackerjack pushed the switch and knocked the rocking horse to get it to swing. Quackerjack then hopped back to where Bushroot and Megavolt were standing, ready to watch his masterpiece. It was chaos, the bouncy balls rolled, clanging and bouncing down the track, the teddy bears pushed with all their might, the rocking horse was rocking insanely. Even Megavolt, who had been pouting because of Quackerjack's "best friend" comment, snapped out of his pity party to watch in amazement as the toy maker's trap fell into place.

Everything was going just as Quackerjack had planned, until it came to Liquidator's part. Herb fell back, stunned, onto the boogie board and the water surged under it. But instead of going straight towards the X on the floor, the water stream diverted at the last second, sending Herb Muddlefoot into a patch of cabbages. The cage snapped right next to him as he scooted by on Liquidator's current.

Bushroot yelled in concern for his precious plants and rushed over to get Herb off of them while Megavolt backpedaled to avoid getting any water on him. Quackerjack himself was looking, dumbstruck, at his foiled plan. Clenching his hands together, the jester turned his wild eyes to Liquidator, who was standing in his spot, a look of pure innocence on his face. Quackerjack took a deep breath, counted to ten, and screamed, "LIQUIDATOR!"

()()()()()()()()()()()

J. Gander Hooter sat in his office, filling out paperwork. He hated paperwork, but it came with the job as Head of S.H.U.S.H. He knew that the job was going to be more signatures and public affairs than adrenaline and mortal combat. _Doesn't make this any more interesting though_, Gander thought wryly as he pushed the stack of work away from him.

Pulling out a small notebook, Gander checked off things that he had to do, making small notes here and there. Normally S.H.U.S.H.'s head was quite a scatterbrain, which is why it was so important for him to have a quality secretary. If not, things would be chaotic, at least more chaotic than normal, around the secret facility.

He snapped his mind out of the random train of thought he was on. He saw on the small notebook page that Doctor Sara Bellum had made a request to show him a new contraption of hers. He smiled, Dr. Bellum, though some people called her crazy, was a genius in his eyes.

_Not to mention quite pretty. _

Gander blinked, surprised with himself for thinking such a thought. They were colleagues, in a professional relationship. Nothing less, nothing more.

_But what if I want more?_

Once again the random thought surprised him. He shook his head, wondering what had gotten into himself. Perhaps he should not go see Dr. Bellum, just to stop whatever this was.

_No I want- need to see her. Now._

He nodded to himself and got out of his chair. It wasn't random thought. he really did want to see the doctor. As he opened the door his secretary, Cairina Quack, looked up. Cocking her eyebrow the experienced secretary, smirked, "Going somewhere sir?"

"Oh! Um, Hello Cairina yes I'm just going to pop down to the science lab for a bit. Not to be disturbed, you know."

"Yes I do." she said, trying to retain a professional air, but couldn't help but add mischievously, "Going to see Dr. Bellum?"

"Yes- Oh wait! I mean no. I mean... I was thinking I might drop by her office if she's in." Gander walked hurriedly out of his secretary's questioning stare, who just shrugged after his retreating figure.

Down in the science lab Dr. Bellum was feverishly yanking on a screwdriver that was stuck in a small box that she had,supposedly, been working on. She had just brought out the TNT when J. Gander Hooter walked in. Looking up, Dr. Bellum smiled, it had been awhile since she had seen her owlish boss lately. Too long in the doctor's opinion. She loved watching him, seeing him admire her work, looking at his smile that was just for her. Sure, he was no spring chicken, but neither was she. She just didn't show it as much, and she wasn't getting any younger... Of course she had kept these opinions about her boss to herself. Though brilliant with her science, Sara had never been able to convey her feelings to others well, if at all, without encouragement. She nodded at the small owl, "Hello Director Hooter. You doing well today?"

"Y- yes I'm, ahem, I'm fine." Gander stammered, mentally smacking himself as he looked at the female duck. "I came here to check up on you. I mean to check you over! I- I mean to check over your experiments!" the flustered owl was now turning red.

The doctor, who was turning a bit pink herself, looked down at the screwdriver, trying to give herself something to do. It only took one yank to get the idiotic tool out of the mess of wires. _Traitor_, she thought, spitefully looking at the insubordinate screwdriver. Shaking her head, the doctor realized that an awkward silence had fallen over the room while she had been resentfully reprimanding the inanimate object. She cleared her throat and tried to change the subject, by going back to it.

"Yes, my experiment. I assume you mean the one I called in yesterday."

Gander simply nodded, feeling it best if he didn't speak again. Ever.

"Right," she grabbed the small box from the table, "this is the fruit of my work on the surplus of accidental, coincidental, or purposeful use of abilities beyond the scope of a normal person!" She beamed at J. Gander, until she saw the confused look on his face, "In layman's terms- super power residue."

"Oh, so what does it do?"

"If any of our super powered villains use their abilities to an extent greater than three point o' nine six then we will be able to get a quick lock on them. I have even gotten it to track some of the activity of Quackerjack's toys!"

"Excellent work Dr. Bellum! Darkwing will be extremely excited to hear of this breakthrough!" She blushed under his praise. He took the device from her, "Can I see it work?"

Sara smiled and flicked a switch on the small panel. At first there was nothing but silence. Then, just as Gander had considered giving the project up for a loss, the contraption began to beep. A small holographic map came from a projector, a red dot indicating the place where the surge occurred. Gander put the machine on the table and wrote down the coordinates. Suddenly, the little box began to beep more rapidly. _Not good_. Flashed through Gander's head and, using his long past S.H.U.S.H. training, he flung himself onto the Doctor covering her, or as much of her as his short body _could _cover, from the explosion that came from the box.

Getting up slowly J. Gander and Dr. Sara saw the steaming pile of metal that used to be the invention. Sighing, Sara sat down on a chair. "Darn it. And I was so _sure_ nothing was going to explode this time."

Gander pulled up a chair and patted Sara's hand. "Well look at it this way. At least we know_something's_ going on. That is much better than not knowing anything, right?" he got a small smile and nod from the Doctor which made him bolder, "Besides, my old joints needed the shock. I was worried that I was going soft." That got her to laugh.

She sighed again though, saying, "I guess you'll want to go gather your agents up to go find out what this is, right?"

"I don't know about that. I mean after all you have just had a very traumatizing experience," he took a firmer hold on her hand, it was now or never, "I think that as your boss it is my duty to make sure you're okay. Perhaps with a late lunch... and a walk in the park?"

"J. Gander are you asking me on a date?"

"That depends, are you going to say yes?"

She nodded and stood with him. Then a thought came into her mind, "What about what the radar said?"

"Gander's face fell for a moment, but then it cleared. There was a roguish smile on his face as he said, "Let's let Darkwing Duck take care of it. He_ is_ the professional in these kinds of cases."

()()()()()()()()()()()

Meanwhile, not knowing that they were in the middle of helping a test run for a new piece of S.H.U.S.H. technology, the Fearsome Four were fighting. Well, to be more correct: Quackerjack was chasing Liquidator, who was taunting him to drag out the time, Bushroot was trying to get them to cut it out, and Megavolt was distracting Herb, and failing miserably.

"Guys. GUYS! Stop it! Oh you're going to crush the daisies!" Bushroot cried as he tried to hold a furious Quackerjack away from the Liquidator.

"You, you CHEATER! You're just no FAIR!" Quackerjack raged throwing some new experimental super-fast drying glue at the conning ex-salesman.

"Feeling duped? Let down? Just plain cheated? Well then take my advice. Don't trust The Liquidator when it comes to competition. I'm in it to _win_ it!" the watery dog advertised as he dodged the projectiles easily and hid behind a large palm tree.

Over at the other side of the greenhouse Megavolt was trying to act like nothing was going on. He was supposed to keep Herb's attention at the moment, it wouldn't be good for anyone, even an oaf like Herb, to see that the Fearsome Five had problems like bickering. "So... uh... you like..." Megavolt tried to make small talk, probing his fried brain for the name of that show that the fat duck liked to watch. He closed his eyes in concentration. Suddenly, he remembered!

"Pelican's Island!" he cried triumphantly, opening his eyes. Unfortunately, when Megavolt had been caught up in trying to remember, Herb had walked over to the action.

Bushroot, tiring of Quackerjack's frantic clawing at his petals in order to get at Licky and his arms growing weary, shouted, "Enough!" He motioned his vines over, telling them to bind the furious jester. Once Quackerjack found that he could not get out of the grip of the plants, he settled into a moody pout. Bushroot sighed in relief and turned to face Liquidator, only to find that the dog was already being chewed out by Herb. He shot a look at Megavolt, who just shrugged and went over to his toy maker pal, trying to get him to cheer up.

Bushroot walked over to Herb and the Liquidator, who was looked like he was trying not to laugh, and caught the end of the conversation. "And all that to say that you should be more careful 'bout where your water is flowin' someone coulda gotten hurt. As my Binkie says "Safety First" you get what I mean Mr. Liquinator?"

As soon as Herb pronounced his name wrong, all traces of mirth left the face of the dog. His liquid ears pinned back against his head and he growled in a low voice, "Liqui_da_tor. Liqui-DA-tor why can you get it through your thick-"

"Ookay," Bushroot slid in between the angry ex-salesman and the clueless door-to-door salesman, "I think Licky's learned his lesson. Thank you Herb."

Herb smiled, headed over to the T.V., and turned it on. After making sure that the Liquidator was calm enough not to kill Herb, Bushroot headed over to the other two super villains. Thanks to Megavolt, and what ever he had said while he was bent over the pouting duck, Quackerjack seemed to be back to normal. After getting a quick nod from the electrical rat, Bushroot told the vines to let Quackerjack go.

After being let from his bonds, Quackerjack turned and blew a raspberry at the Liquidator. "It was still not fair of you Licky. You _lied_ to me."

"Ah ah ah! The fine print clearly states that you never directly told me to wash him under the cage. You just wanted me to wash him _somewhere_. So technically I fulfilled my end of the bargain!" This speech was received with nothing but another raspberry from the angry Quackerjack.

"Hmph it's still no fair, AND I don't have any time left because I was chasing you around." The other three villains looked at the clock and, sure enough, it was a minute to Two. "Well Megs, I guess it's your turn!" laughed the jester, doing a flip to get behind his friend. "Fry the competition for me," he whispered in the rat's ear.

Smiling maniacally Megavolt sent a spark of electricity through his arm as the clock struck Two. "Don't worry, I'll make sure the results are _shocking_."

()()()()()()()()()()()

A/N: Right, so that's done. I couldn't help the "shocking" pun at the end there. Oh, and we have a little J. Gander/Sarah Bellum stuff. I dunno, I like the pair. I'd love to know what you think! Thanks for reading!


	3. A NotSoWonderful Box

A/N: And here's chapter three! Meh, it is a _little_ shorter than I intended, but don't worry Megs fans. I didn't short change our favorite electrically charged rat, there's plenty of annoyance in store for him in this chapter! Oh by the way. (As if I haven't already told you enough) I. Don't. Own. Anything! Bad for me. Good for the world. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

()()()()()()()()()()()

Chapter 3

Megavolt was smiling eerily at the heavyset mallard in front of him. At the moment the Quackerware salesman was immersed in his sales pitch, which had been prompted by the electrical rat, and had a look of clueless bliss on his face. Around him the other super villains were both trying to keep busy, and ignore Herb's annoying voice. Quackerjack was sitting on the ground, surrounded by various toys, his legs splayed out in front of him. Once or twice he would glance up at Megavolt to see his progress. Bushroot was watering his plants, followed by Spike and Liquidator, who was helping his partner in crime every now and again with a wave of his watery arm. The two mutants were also chatting quietly between themselves as they went.

As it was said, Megavolt had indeed prompted Herb into his lengthy sales pitch. He was waiting for _just _the right piece of Quackerware. It had to be extremely fragile for his plan to work. It was child's play, once he found the right piece he was going to make it explode, simple really. When it did Herb would be taken to the hospital and then he could go back to his light bulbs.

Then he saw it. It was a small, slim container, and to top it all off it was pink. His grin got wider as he stopped Herb in mid-sentence, "So, wait how durable is this one again?" He gestured to the tiny piece of Quackerware that rested in Herb's hands.

"The Wonder Box? Oh it's _extremely _durable. Oh yeah I'm sure you'd have a hard time breaking this little baby!"

_That's what you think, bub. _Megavolt thought, he was not worried in the slightest about the little pink box. After all, it was _pink _for crying out loud, but he did have to choose his next words carefully, needing it to look like an accident. "Do you mind if I get a little demonstration?"

"Well no! How wouldya do that exactly?"

"Oh it wouldn't take much, I just want to try to break it."

"Okay, why not? Hav'a go at it Sparky!"

Megavolt gritted his teeth at the hated nickname. Why Herb had chosen _that _of all things to call him, he would never know. However, he pushed past his anger and backed away from Herb. "Okay then, you just hold it up. Yep just like that," the villainous rodent sniggered as he continued to back away.

The rest of the occupants in the greenhouse had turned their attention toward the scene, wondering what Megavolt was up to. Quackerjack flopped onto his stomach, pulled out a bag of popcorn from who-knows-where, and lay motionless, looking like a kid watching his favorite show. Cracking his knuckles, Megavolt charged up a small amount of energy to his blue gloved hand, "Ready?"

"Right-o' bukko!" Herb gave him a thumbs up sign.

Megavolt then let out the little ball of electricity at the pink container and, more importantly, the hands that held it. Bushroot let out a small yelp when the electricity hit, making a small "pop". Megavolt blinked as he saw that the box was perfectly fine, if not pinker. He let out a grunt of exasperation, nodded at Herb to let him know he was going again and sent another, larger ball at the plastic container. Once again, though the shot struck dead on, there was no effect on the case. Not bothering to check with Herb this time, Megavolt sent a charge that was slightly above normal size at the pink nightmare.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Growling, Megavolt tossed a ball that was definitely a dangerous size at Herb and the Quackerware product. It hit the container with a loud "BOOM" and knocked Herb over. There was smoke everywhere. Megavolt grinned triumphantly, only to have

his jaw drop in disbelief. There was Herb, on the ground but unharmed, with the little pink Quackerware container sitting innocently in his hands, it having taken the full force of the blow. Quackerjack, now in riotous laughter, rolled onto his back and grabbed his stomach. Liquidator was also bent double, his burbling chortle shaking his entire form. Even Bushroot had a leafy hand clasped against his beak, trying to stifle the sniggers that were escaping from it.

Still growling, Megavolt stomped over to Herb and snatched the pink menace out of his grasp. He slammed it against the floor and concentrated on trying to melt the annoying box. He had completely forgotten about his original plan of action and was devoted to decimating the nuisance. Finally the plastic melted into a blob of pink ooze and the rat stood up. He placed the blob on the table triumphantly. Herb had gotten up and was looking from the blob to Megavolt and back again. "Well, you sure did that one in!" he commented shaking his head, "But unfortunately I can't let you get away with ruining one of my wares old Sparky buddy."

"What?"

"Yes that's right fans. It's the old you break it, yoooooou buy it routine," Liquidator slid next to Herb as he spouted out his typical sales jargon.

"You mean I have to _pay _for this thing?"

"Yep-a-roo, sorry pal. I didn't know that you woulda done that to it. If I did I woulda stopped ya," Herb shrugged, "That'll be thirty-nine ninety five."

Grumbling and looking like he wanted to strangle Herb, Megavolt pulled a small wad of cash from his jump suit and leafed out the allotted money. As he did so, Liquidator could have sworn he heard Megavolt grumble about 'stupid moral plants' and their 'obnoxious house guests' under his breath. Also there were several mentions of something pink and box-like mixed with words that would have surely given this story an "M" rating if the author had not chosen to exclude them due to their graphic nature.

()()()()()()()()()()()

The stadium was in an uproar as Gosalyn Mallard took to the ice. She skated around the perimeter a few times, waving to her fans. When she skidded to the halt in front of the other team, they shook with fear. With good reason. She was Gosalyn Mallard, and she was here to win.

The puck was released and she easily snatched it from the opposing player. She skated around the members of the enemy team like they were furniture, laughing at her own skill. It was at times like this that she closely resembled her adopted father and his own rather large ego. Soon she found herself in front of the goal. The goalie's hulking figure was menacingly blocking her way to victory.

A single bead of sweat fell from her brow...

and she knew it was her time.

"Gosalyn winds up for her super-powerful goal striker strike. She shoots..." the young Mallard hit the puck, holding her breath. The goal keeper lunged... but to no avail. The puck soared past him and hit the inside of the goal. "SHE SCORES!" the girl made a victory lap as she cheered herself on. "The crowd goes wild! Gosalyn Mallard has done it again!"

"Great shot Gos," came the voice of the goalie from behind her, "and this time you didn't even break anything!"

Gosalyn turned from her celebration, snapping out of her fantasy. "Yeah, yeah thanks Launchpad. But what could you expect from Gosalyn Mallard, indoor hockey extraordinaire!" She spun the hockey stick expertly in her hands and gave another puck a hefty whack towards their 'goal', also known as the front door.

Launchpad smiled, she sure was taking allot of her adopted parent's traits. Not that that was a bad thing, but he hoped her ego wouldn't inflate to the size of his friend's. One duck that needed Launchpad to boost his self-importance was enough to keep him busy constantly. It was really tiring actually, trying to keep DW, and everyone else, happy. He had always had a knack for it, developing the skill from when he worked for Mr. McDuck he supposed. But now he had to go back to the present. DW was coming home soon and they'd need to clean up. "Yeah, okay Gos it was a great shot, but I think that's enough for today."

"Aww c'mon Launchpad," she groaned as he began to clean up, "one more shot."

"Okay _one _more."

She nodded and drew back her stick. Slapping it with all her might, Gos happily watched it zoom towards the door, until it opened. She gasped as her dad walked in, looking beat from the plumbing job their neighbor, Mrs. Muddlefoot, had set him to. The puck hit him in the beak, making him fall to the ground with a yelp. Not missing a beat, both Gosalyn and Launchpad sprung into action. Only Launchpad rushed to Drake's side while Gosalyn bolted up the stairs.

"You okay DW?" Launchpad asked as he helped his friend up.

Drake rolled his eyes, he wasn't even in the mood to be sarcastic. Well... then again, "No, no, no, no. I'm fine. I only just had a _speeding projectile _rearrange my face _that's all_."

Launchpad shrugged as he turned to hide a smile. If DW was using his snarky wit against his large friend, then he was fine. If Drake hadn't been irritated, Launchpad would have gotten worried. "Sorry about that DW," he began, only to be silenced by the shorter mallard.

"It wasn't you LP it was, GOSALYN!" Drake yelled the end of his reassurance to his sidekick, calling his daughter.

Gosalyn came down with a sheepish look on her face, "Uh... yes Dad?"

"How many times do I have to tell you about playing hockey in the house?"

"Um, how many times does this make?"

"Thirty-nine."

"Oh you kept count? Well... um... Forty."

Drake smacked a hand to his face, secretly trying to hide his smile. Even when she was in trouble, his girl still had the best sense of humor of anyone he had met. Other than himself, of course. "That was rhetorical young lady. Now for your punishment-"

"Oh c'mon DW don't get mad at her. I was the one that let her after all." Launchpad chimed in.

"Well, yes LP but I can't punish _you_."

"But that doesn't mean you have to punish _me_! After all I'm just an impressionable kid here!" Gos argued.

Drake, now realizing he was in an impossible situation, groaned inwardly. They were ganging up on him again and he wasn't sure how he was going to get out of this one. At least, not without... admitting he was... _wrong_. He shuddered at the thought, or to be more correct his ego shuddered at the thought. Fortunately, both he and his ego were saved as a flashquack soared in through the open window.

"Hey look, it's a message from J. Gander!" he nearly shouted in his relief, "Gosalyn go play with Honker."

"What! And miss the cool secret agent stuff?"

"If you go I _might _forget about the little puck accident young lady. And _perhaps _I will forget about cutting your allowance too."

"Hey Dad, I'mgoingtogoplaywithHonkerbye!" the girl bolted out the door and slammed it behind her, leaving the two men chuckling at her exit.

"Now, let's see what ol' Director Hooter needs help with." Drake said, hopping into one of the blue chairs, closely followed by his sidekick, and hit the statue of Basil. After one short and slightly dizzying trip, Drake bolted behind a changing screen, tossing the flashquack to Launchpad. A moment passed, and the Masked Mallard came out from behind, taking the flashquack from his large friend. He walked over to the large computer and pressed a few buttons.

J. Gander Hooter's face appeared on the screen, "Ahh Darkwing, good to see you."

"Nice to see you again too Director Hooter. What malicious miscreant do you need put to justice by Darkwing Duck!"

"Well you see Darkwi- AH! Hey! Oh you... One moment Darkwing." the owl's body turned to someone of screen. The two ducks on the other end watched, confused as they heard giggling and hushed whispers. After a moment, J. Gander straightened, a faint trace of a blush over his beak, "Um- ah yes where was I?"

The hero and sidekick exchanged a look. "Uhh J, is someone there with you?" Darkwing asked, completely befuddled.

"Oh what? Well... yes. Nothing to worry about though! It's just Dr. Bellum."

"Hello Darkwing!" came the voice of the batty scientist from somewhere to Gander's right.

"Oookay," Darkwing decided it was better not to ask. He mustered up as much hero bravado as he could and continued, "You were just about to tell us the mission Director."

"Ah yes. Now Doctor Bellum had created a new device in order to track the movements of your super-powered foes."

"That's great! Where is it?"

"Unfortunately Dr. Bellum's creation... well... it blew up." There was another giggle from off screen. Gander looked over at it with a small smile.

"Blew up?" Launchpad asked.

Darkwing shrugged at his partner and mumbled, "What else is new?" Louder he added, "So why do you need us?"

"Because right before it exploded it showed us a general location of where these villains were. There must be a few of them there, because the reading was strong. This might be something big it's up to you to figure out what it is."

"Yep, yep, yep. Not to worry Director. There's nothing to worry about with Darkwing Duck on the case." his chest puffed out a bit as he reveled in his self glorifying speech.

"Hmm? Oh yes, I'm sure." Gander was distracted again, "Here are the coordinates. Good luck." The screen went dark abruptly.

"Wonder what that was about." Launchpad mused as Darkwing took the small piece of paper with the coordinates that had printed out of the flashquack.

The purple-clad hero shrugged as he hopped onto his motorbike, the Ratcatcher, "No idea LP. Now, get in. We have some crooks to catch!"

The muscular mallard got into the small sidecar, twisting around to get comfortable. The Ratcatcher sped down the side of the suspension bridge, dropping them onto the roadway. Once they were travelling at a smooth pace, Darkwing handed the paper to Launchpad, "So what are the coordinates LP?"

"They look pretty close together," Launchpad said as he rattled off the numbers on the paper.

Meanwhile, Darkwing had been typing them into his computer between the handlebars of the motorcycle. "Okay, looks like the two most likely places that are in that vicinity are Bushroot's greenhouse and... the sewers." He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice as he thought of the rank tunnels, but he couldn't help the twinge of disgust that came out with it. He hated the sewers.

Launchpad caught on to his friend's disgust and instantly volunteered, "How about we split up. You take the greenhouse and I'll take the sewers. That way we won't be out all night."

Darkwing agreed with relief, giving Launchpad a grateful smile. What had he done to deserve such a great friend? "Thanks LP. Now! Let's get Dangerous."

()()()()()()()()()()()

Megavolt stood staring at the fat duck on the couch, his face was an odd mixture of disgust and awe. _What is this? Does this guy have some sort of guardian angel? _He asked himself. And for the past thirty minutes it had seemed that way. No matter what Megavolt did, it had no effect. Actually it wasn't that it had no effect, it's just that he had not been able to do _anything _to him. He tried intimidating him, Herb laughed it off. He tried shooting bolts of electricity, Herb saw a penny, or turned to talk to someone, or obliviously stepped behind a mirror. He had even tried giving the frustrating mallard a good kick in the pants, the electrical rat had tripped over Spike and fallen face first, giving

Herb another reason to repeat his wife's slogan "Safety first!". Which had sounded oddly familiar, but he shrugged it off. Now the oaf was on the couch with Bushroot, who was looking both annoyed and amused, and was talking about his favorite Pelican's Island episode. His wife, kids, Quackerware, and Pelican's Island were the only things Herb seemed to

be able to talk about.

Quackerjack, having finally decided to stop being mad at the Liquidator, was in the middle of a card game with the liquid dog, who was wearing a pair of rubber gloves to prevent his watery hands from destroying them. They both had been cheating the entire game, so it was a fair match.

The electric rat rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers on his plug hat as he tried to come up with a plan. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was Two Forty-three. He'd have to think of something fast. Then, out of nowhere, inspiration struck him. He sauntered over to the couch and lounged against the arm, looking bored. He then grabbed the remote and asked, "You mind?"

After being assured that he could change the channel, Megavolt stared to flip through them rapidly. _Where is it? _he thought, as the programs flashed before his eyes. _Aha! _He stopped, turned up the volume, and waited.

"**Well come back to Martha Stewing's Home Cooking!" **the T.V. blared, drawing the attention of the occupants of the greenhouse, Herb especially.

"**And now Martha is going to show us how to make her savory, scrumptious Potato Stew!"**

Herb's mouth began to water as the female duck began to explain how to peel the potatoes. When she showed the proper technique to pour the sauce, he scooted closer to the T.V. Finally when the foul temptress of the T.V. was stirring the mouthwatering dish his stomach growled loudly. Herb then remembered that he hadn't had any lunch. As if on a wire, Herb got up and walked out of the greenhouse, completely controlled by his appetite.

When the door closed Megavolt let out his high pitched laugh and cackled, "Success!" Bushroot, who had been trying to register what had just happened, snapped out of his unbelief and smiled. The other two villains, who had been equally dumbstruck, were also brought back into reality by the rat's insane laughter. Quackerjack shrieked gleefully and hopped up, hugging his friend happily. He shot the liquid canine a smug look, glad that the filthy cheater hadn't even had a chance to have his turn. Liquidator rolled his watery eyes and went reluctantly over to congratulate the victor. None of them noticed that Herb's Quackerware and bag still rested on the table.

Fifteen minutes later three of the villains, who had been recounting how Megavolt had "defeated" the nuisance, were getting ready to leave. However, they froze when they heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"Howdy guys! Wha'd I miss?" Herb entered, drinking out of a plastic Hamburger Hippo cup.

Of the four dumbstruck villains, Liquidator was the first to recover. "Surveys say, Nothing!" he boomed as his companions came to their senses. "Looks like the polls are still open in the competition," the watery villain hissed at the electrical one.

"What? I got him out didn't I?"

"Ah ah ah. But the fine print shows that the winner of the competition must both get the door-to-door annoyance out and _keep _him out!"

Megavolt growled as Quackerjack burst into laughter "He's got you there Megsy!" he chuckled, looking at his angry friend, "Herb is like a living boomerang! He always comes back!"

"Oh I sure hope not." Bushroot groaned, wringing his leaves and looking at Herb fretfully.

Herb, not knowing that he was the subject of their conversation, waved to Megavolt, "Hey there Sparky! Wouldya like to see some more of my Quackerware? Maybe even buy another Wonder Box, one that isn't melted at least!"

"DON'T CALL ME SPARKY! OOOOH! I'll make sure that he stays out! Permanently!" Megavolt stomped towards Herb, murder in his eyes.

"No wait you can't!" Bushroot screamed and began to run to stop him. Unfortunately for him, the plant manager was tripped by the jester, who wanted to see the "fun", and fell to the floor.

Megavolt reached Herb, who had his back turned to the rat, and electricity flowed to his fingertips. Herb heard the sparks and turned around quickly, his soft-drink spilling out of the cup in his hands... and onto Megavolt.

The rat's body jolted as he shorted out. The three other villains winced, feeling the pain from where they were standing. Megavolt collapsed in a heap on the floor, causing Quackerjack to yelp and run over to his friend. In the meantime Bushroot and Liquidator ushered Herb to the other side of the greenhouse, just in case Megavolt woke up in a rage.

"Megs? Can you hear me?" he asked, gently shaking his friend.

"Oi, what a night." Megavolt grumbled as he sat up, "Where am I?"

"Bushroot's greenhouse, remember?"

"No."

Quackerjack sighed, frustrated, "Oh, come-on silly! We were trying to get rid of Herb, _remember_?" he rapped the confused rat on his plug hat.

"Uh... yes? Who's Herb?"

"The annoying Quackerware salesman."

"That rings a bell. Why were we trying to get rid of him again?"

"Ugh, you're hopeless." Quackerjack rolled his eyes and looked at the clock. _Two Fifty-five, drat, Megs won't be able to remember that it's his turn. That means Licky gets bonus time? No fun! _he began to pout as he thought of what the Liquidator could dowith five extra minutes. There was no way around it though. "Well, Megs is fried," hecalled to the other two, "I won't be able to remind him of what we're doing in five , he's no use when he's shorted out." the demented toymaker groanedand added, "I guess it's your turn Licky."

Bushroot, who had been dragged back to the couch by Herb to continue their discussion, wriggled out from between the fat duck and the couch, massaging his torso. Now leaning on the sofa's arm, Bushroot looked at the Liquidator, a small, pleading grin on his face.

The smile on the Liquidator's watery face was much more pronounced as he opened his mouth, most likely to begin a new sale pitch, but it quickly snapped shut when blue smoke appeared at one of the greenhouse's windows.

With a gasp of fear, Bushroot jumped into Liquidator's arms.

Quackerjack rolled his eyes and muttered, "Here comes the spoil sport..."

Still confused and on the floor, Megavolt looked at the blue smoke with annoyance.

And the Liquidator let out a growl, "Inquiring minds want to know. What is _he _doing here?"

Then, suddenly, a voice that they each knew, and hated, came from the center of the smoke. "I am the terror that flaps in the night; I am the blackout that ruins your party. I... am Darkwiiiiing Duck!"

()()()()()()()()()()()

A/N: Ohsnap! Bet ya didn't see that one coming. What? You did? Oh... Anyway, was that enough Megavolt goodness- or badness- for you? I hope so. I'd love to hear what you think! See you next chapter!

:Update: I'd like to add a big Thank You to VAPX007 for catching a grammar error in this chapter! Much appreciated!


	4. A Dark Intermission

A/N: Hi guys, I'm back! Yikes, it's taken me sooo long to post this. Bleh, I blame the start of school. Anyway, I have finally gotten used to my new schedule so I have time to write again. Yay! I have no part in owning the Darkwing universe. He and everybody else in this story belongs to Disney. Wahoo… Enjoy!

()()()()()()()()()()()

Chapter 4

" I... am Darkwiiiiing Duck!" The masked mallard struck one of his signature poses before jumping into the green house. The four villains were looking at him with expressions of either confusion or annoyance, too surprised to move. The hero, oblivious to the inaction of his nemeses, turned to Bushroot, who was still in the Liquidator's arms, and began to monologue. "SO, thought you could get away with it huh? Thought you could pull the wool over the eyes of Justice? Well let me tell you that no bumbling band of berserk botany can hide your vile villainy from the ever watchful eyes of Darkwiiiing Duck!"

The Liquidator let out an exasperated burble and put Bushroot down. "Statistics show, it'd be best to get the oaf out of sight," he whispered to the plant-duck. Bushroot quickly conjured up a hedge to block the back of the sofa from sight, and the fat mallard, who was looking at Darkwing curiously, that was sitting on it. After that the watery villain went, stood in front of the duck, who was still in the middle of his good-vs-evil lecture, and began to tap a watery foot impatiently against the dirt floor.

Darkwing, now realizing that no one had stopped him, opened his eyes that had been closed during his speech. Our hero yelped when he saw the form of the Liquidator in front of him, and jumped back in a defensive position.

The Liquidator raised a watery brow, then smiled, "Three out of four villains want to know. What is it that we're doing wrong?"

The caped crusader paused, taken aback, and looked around. Surely there must be something around the greenhouse that looked sinister. _Anything._ He looked again. Other than the four super villains staring at him, nothing was out of place. He cleared his throat, "Well you must be doing _something_. Why else would all four of you be in one place?"

"Oh yeah, like we can't have social lives," Megavolt sneered as he got up."Ever occur to you that we might have just wanted to visit Bush-brain here?"

"Yeah!" Quackerjack piped up, catching on, "Why do you have to stalk us all the time? Don't you have a life?"

"In any case this is a private meeting, on _private property _I might add." Bushroot said with a shrug, "You were the one who bursted in here."

Before Darkwing could come up with a snappy comeback, Liquidator pitched in, "Tired of feeling like a fool? Want to just disappear? Then why don't you? Use a Darkwing Brand smoke screen and save yourself further embarrassment at the hands of your enemies. Act now!"

Darkwing's mind whirred, he didn't believe that four of the most dangerous criminals ever were gathered in one place just to socialize, but they had a point. He took a breath, and said the first thing that came to his mind, "Well then... if you're not doing anything... then you wouldn't mind if a took a look around, huh?"

There was silence as the four super villains looked at each other uneasily. All of them had no intention of telling Darkwing about Herb- Who would?- but none of them could think of a legitimate excuse not to show the masked menace around.

Darkwing regained his hope as the four villains tried to come up with excuses. "Well? If you have nothing to hide then it should be no problem right?" he began to walk towards the hedge.

"NO!" Bushroot and Liquidator jumped in front of the hedge, blocking the short mallard's path, while Quackerjack and Megavolt each grabbed one of his arms.

Darkwing smiled smugly, wrenching his arms from the villains' grip "Why not?"

"Well we- we-" The Liquidator stuttered, for once at a loss for words.

"You're just doing something illegal that's what!" the masked duck accused. Bushroot shook his head frantically, "No no it's just that... that's private!"

"Oh yeeeah suuure, like I'm falling for that!"

"No really it's true I have lots of... um... personal items back there!"

"Like what?"

"Well... I... um..."

Megavolt and Quackerjack, having been pushed away by Darkwing, stood watching the exchange. "Why don't I just fry him?" the rat whispered to the duck.

"We don't about how many people know he's here. Remember that huge sidekick of his? Not to mention S.H.U.S.H. They could be outside just waiting for a reason to take us in. Which would be Ab-so-lute-ly no fun! Remember, Negs doesn't want us to be in the slammer before he pulls his next big scheme."

"Oh, yeah okay," they turned back to the argument.

"Seriously though, what could a mutant plant-duck have that's so personal?" Darkwing sighed, frustrated.

"Lots of things! Just because I'm part plant doesn't mean I don't need... things."

"I'm still waiting for one example."

"Condoms."

"WHAT?" both Bushroot and Darkwing turned toward the Liquidator, who was looking slightly smug, in shock. In the background Quackerjack and Megavolt had burst into laughter.

"I mean condoms. You know the things where you-"

"I _know _what they are," Darkwing cut the liquid canine off. "What I meant was why would he," he jerked a thumb at Bushroot, who was looking incredulously at his partner in crime, "need... ugh... _those_."

"Well I assume you know their function." he raised an eyebrow and got an affirmative, if not completely grossed out, nod, "Then why not? Plant-ducks need to be safe too."

"You're saying that the _entire _space behind that hedge is filled with condoms?"

"Yes."

"Liquidator!" Bushroot had found his voice and was now glaring at the dog, his face was dark green with embarrassment.

"What?" the ex-salesman frowned at the botanist and nudged him, trying to make him play along, "Every good salesman knows to give the customers what they want. He wanted the info, so he got it!"

"We'll talk about this later." Bushroot hissed and turned back to Darkwing, who looked disgusted, "Um... yeah so now you know. Can you go away now? Please?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry for the trouble..." The caped crime fighter turned and took a few slow steps away. Suddenly, he spun back around, sprinted past the stunned Bushroot and Liquidator, and dove through the hedge.

After blinking for a moment, Quackerjack started to laugh again, Bushroot and the Liquidator groaned, and Megavolt shrugged. From inside the hedge they heard Herb's happy greeting, "Darkwing Duck! Well how about that! It's good ta see ya again!"

Putting a leaf to his head, Bushroot waved the hedges away. The four villains saw a flustered Darkwing having his arm yanked off by a smiling Herb.

Liquidator glanced at the clock, it was Three Fifteen. _I guess I'll have to wait another hour for my turn, _he thought, and then smiled, _However, surveys say that this may turn out to be most entertaining. Perhaps it __**is **__time for a commercial- or comical- break._

()()()()()()()()()()()

It was dark in the sewers except for a solitary beam from a flashlight. The holder of said light picked his way through the sewers, his beak wrinkling in disgust. Obviously the stench was not appealing to Launchpad McQuack, pilot and sidekick. He covered his beak with his free hand. It really did stink. DW was smart to have chosen to check the greenhouse.

_You mean he was lucky that __**you **__volunteered to check the sewers for him._

When the random thought popped into his head he sighed, and instantly regretted it when the polluted air filled his beak. It was true, he had seen that his partner was less than eager to go into the sewers, and Launchpad knew that DW would rather submit himself to the disgusting smells (and sights) of St. Canard's plumbing than admit that it was too much for him to handle. It was odd, how he was always smoothing the path for his friend. He'd see the problem before it happened, scout out the options, and then take the path of least resistance. It was something he had done since he was a tyke. Unfortunately, finding the path of least resistance was much harder when he was dealing with his temperamental friend, and that friend's ego.

He smiled, it was a tough job, but someone had to do it. Speaking of which, he had to continue searching for... well, whatever he was searching for. He stepped over a puddle of who knows what and shrugged. Who said the life of a sidekick was glamorous?

But he wouldn't trade it for anything. Despite Darkwing's strange moods, his ego, and his tendency to belittle his best friend, he was a great guy. Launchpad was glad to have met him.

_Enough of that though. Time to work. _He snapped himself from his musings and continued down the sewer. He scanned the light around a few times. There was nothing.

_Wonder what DW is doing right now. I sure hope it's more interesting than what's down here... ugh and hopefully better smelling too- Hold it, _he paused when he saw a light. Straining his ears, Launchpad caught the sound of voices echoing down the pipelines.

_Well maybe there's something going on down here after all. Better check it out. _

And with a nod of his head, the sidekick began to make his way towards the strange lights and noises.

()()()()()()()()()()()

As his partner was picking his way through the sewers, Darkwing was beginning to regret not choosing the slime infested pipes. At the moment, he was sandwiched between Herb's massive gut and Bushroot's scrawny stalk. The mutant plant-duck had propped his elbow on the armrest and was watching the re-run of Pelican's Island blankly. Darkwing huffed and leaned over to Bushroot, which didn't take much as they were practically plastered together, and hissed, "This is all your fault!"

Bushroot's head quickly turned to look down at the short mallard, "_My _fault? How is this my fault? _You _were the one who had to go and play detective on me."

"How was _I _supposed to know that you were hiding him back there. If you four hadn't been so elusive about it, I would not be here right now. You should have told me about this."

"Oh yeah right. Like you would believe me. 'Hey look I can't talk right now. There's a door-to-door salesman who's addicted to Pelican's Island here and I'm having a little trouble with him. Thanks.' Yeah right."

"Okay maybe so, and I still think that you're up to something by the way, but this is _Herb_, you could have at least told me that much."

"Yeah well I- Wait, you know him?" Bushroot raised an eyebrow at his nemesis.

Darkwing gritted his teeth and struggled to get free of the couch. "Let's just say that we've met before," he grunted. With one final tug the crime fighter was free. The force of the motion also pulling Bushroot with him and the unfortunate villain fell sprawling onto the floor. The former duck scowled at the masked vigilante, picked himself up, and sat back on the couch. Darkwing, ignoring Bushroot, began to march over to the three other villains, who had been huddled together whispering the entire time.

"Look, even if he came on your time it's still your turn!"

"If you recall, The Liquidator had not officially agreed to take this hour before the Idiot that Flaps barged in. This salesman thinks that you're just trying to shorthand him because of the little _boogie-board _incident."

"Hmph, maybe so, but it is _still _your turn!"

Megavolt rolled his eyes at the bickering pair. He rubbed his head, it was all starting to come back now... sort of. At least he remembered where they were and what they were doing. The entire game was getting tiring in his opinion. He wanted to get back to his precious luminaries. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darkwing start to approach.

"Uh, guys?"

"No, that doesn't make any sense, you're the one who waited till the end to take your turn."

"Look out sports fans! It seems that Quackerjack is not only a sore loser, but a cheater! Stay tuned for details!"

Quackerjack gasped, his mouth practically dropping to the floor, "Take that back!"

"Uh... hey guys." Megavolt glanced nervously at the oncoming duck.

Liquidator spread his arms wide, "Oh! I'm sorry! Our return policy is next to nothing for... _cheaters_."

"How dare you! I have _not once _cheated ever... in this game at least."

"What game?" Darkwing's voice broke into the two super villains' argument. They looked up to see Darkwing, looking curious, and Megavolt, rubbing his temples. Quackerjack and Liquidator exchanged a glance before turning to face the mallard completely.

"It has nothing to do with you, Lou." Mr. Banana Brain quipped from Quackerjack's hand.

"Nine out of ten banana-inspired dolls agree: Darkwing should keep his big beak where it belongs."

"Besides," Quackerjack sneered, "shouldn't you have left by now? Unless you're thinking of turning to crime and want some pointers."

"Ha-ha no wonder you dress like a jester, and my beak is _not _big! Is it? Anyway, I'll have you know that I'm still not sure that you four aren't up to something. Furthermore, I can't leave Herb alone to your precarious powwow of potentially perilous plotting. As the defender of this city it is my duty to take him away from this vile villainy."

"Be our guest, if you can," Megavolt muttered as Darkwing walked over to Herb.

The Liquidator leaned over to Quackerjack and whispered, "The results are in, and the people have voted Darkwing Duck as our next competitor." Quackerjack just pouted and smacked the liquid canine in the face, making the watery features jumble for a moment.

Back at the couch where Herb had been regaling Bushroot with stories of his family's last barbecue, Darkwing tapped the large mallard on the shoulder. Herb looked around and smile, "Well if it isn't Mr. Darkwing. Howya doin' buddy?"

Darkwing rolled his eyes and cleared his throat,"A-hem, Mr. Muddlefoot. I think it's about time that you go home. Don't you think?"

"Well I don't know. Binky was awfully clear with her instructions. She wants me out workin' for a while more."

"But Mr. Muddlefoot I really don't call _this _working."

The four villains realized what the hero was going to say just before he said it. They jumped up and tried to stop the inevitable.

"No!"

"Wait!"

"Don't!"

"Say it!"

Ignoring their cries, Darkwing pressed on, "Shouldn't you be out selling Quackerware?"

The super villains groaned as the familiar sparkle came into Herb's eyes. Herb heaved himself off of the couch saying, "You're right Mr. Darkwing! Wait just one second while I get ready!" He huffed over to the table while the hero turned to Bushroot.

"Get ready?"

"He's going to start _The Pitch _again," Bushroot groaned as he slapped a leaf to his beak.

"What the heck is _The Pitch_?"

Liquidator slid up to Darkwing's right, "The scourge of these four villains for the past three- no now four hours! Only available from a Muddlefoot near you. It's-"

"Hey Mr. Darkwing c'mon over here! Have I gots some deals for you!"

"_The Pitch_."

()()()()()()()()()()()

J. Gander Couldn't believe his luck. He was sitting next to the most beautiful duck in StCanard. Not only that but he was on a date with her! A smile worked onto his face as he watched Dr Sara Bellum stack forks into a pyramid, a look of deep concentration was on her face. They had already eaten and were having some coffee. He chuckled and the noise grabbed her attention. When she looked up at him he felt his face get hot. "Um, that looks nice."

She grinned, "Thank you director."

"You can call me J, Dr. Bellum."

"Only if you call me Sara."

"Deal."

They sat in silence, not really sure what to say next. Sara twiddled her thumbs and added a touch or two to her pyramid. J. Gander simply watched her. "J," Sara mused, "What does "J" stand for anyway?"

The owl's face began to turn red again, "Oh, well I really don't like to talk about my first name much..."

"Oh come on. How bad could it be?"

"Bad."

Sara squinted her eyes behind her glasses. Then, with a sinister smile, she reached into her purse and pulled out a strange looking device, "We have ways of making you talk."

Gander eyed the contraption warily, "What in the world does that thing do?"

"You could find that out," she chuckled her insane chuckle, "Or you can spare yourself and tell me what J stands for."

Swallowing hard, the owl tried to keep up his bravado, "Now you wouldn't do anything to your director, would you?"

"No, but you're not my director right now. Right, _J_."

"Oh fine fine you devious little- A-hem. J stands for," he leaned over and whispered a name into the doctor's ear. Pulling back, J watched anxiously for her reaction.

Sara blinked for a moment, then smiled and, much to J's relief, put back the gadget. "Aw that's not so bad. Actually it's kinda cute."

Gander rolled his eyes, only Sara. "So what was that thing?" he asked, indicating the purse.

"Oh that? It's my eyelash curler."

"Your... eyelash curler?"

"Exactly," she said smugly, buffing her nails on her lab coat, "you were in absolutely no danger the entire time."

After a beat, they both broke into hysterical laughter, getting several looks from the surrounding tables. Once they had calmed down, looking into each other's eyes, they leaned in closer. Just as their beaks were about to meet…

"Director!" A russian accented voice broke into the moment with a crash.

With a sigh J Gander looked up to see his top agent, Grizzlikof, standing in the doorway of the S.H.U.S.H. headquarter's restaurant. Both he and Dr. Bellum straightened as the angry looking bear strode to them. "Agent Grizzlikof," the owl managed to choke out, trying not to sound as pissed as he actually was, "What?"

"I haf only heard now about a ceertain experiment that you had been doings with Doctor Bellam," the top agent nodded at the doctor as he mentioned her name.

"And?"

"And? And you haf given the assignment to Darkvink Duck!"

Gander sighed and rubbed his temples. It was like this with Grizzlikof every time Darkwing got involved. "Agent I have my reasons for choosing Darkwing. I think he is a fine asset to this organization, and quite capable to handle whatever those villains throw at him. You know that."

"Yes but every other time I haf known _before _you contacted that caped clown. Vy did you not consult me?"

"Because _I _am the director of S.H.U.S.H. not you Grizzlikof! So you should just calm down and trust me!" Gander was now standing up, and, though the owl was at least one fifth of the bear's size, Grizzlikof looked disconcerted.

"I- I am sorry Director. I should trust your judgement."

J waved a hand to stop him and sat down. He tried hated having to get like this, but it was the only thing that got the irritable bear to listen, "No no Grizzlikof I was in the wrong. I should have alerted you. I just had my mind on... other things."

"I can see that," Grizzlikof smirked with a glance at Dr Bellum. "I am sorry that I disturbed you. I vill talk to Darkvink about the paper vork later."

"Right," Gander muttered after his retreating figure, "you do that." Sara, who had been silently watching the entire event, burst into a fit of giggles. J looked at her, confused,

"What's so funny?"

Once she had stifled her laughter enough to speak, she said, "It's just that, J, I think Agent Grizzlikof was actually scared of you for a moment. I can see why you're director."

"Oh and it was hard to understand how I got the position before?" he was answered with nothing but more laughter. He smiled and chuckled with her, "How about we go somewhere with less interruptions?"

She nodded and stood with him. "By the way, did you really mean what you said about Darkwing being able to handle those villains?"

"Of course, I'm sure he has everything under control."

()()()()()()()()()()()

"I have everything under control." Darkwing hissed to Bushroot, who, along with the other three villains, had been forced to listen to _The Pitch _with the hero for the last Fifty minutes.

"Oh really? Because the last time I checked having things 'under control' involved having some sort of _control_. Which you don't have."

"You underestimate the power of my industrious mind. Already I am forming a plan to extract Herb from your greenhouse."

"What exactly do you-" Bushroot was cut off as Herb sighed happily.

"An' that's just about it. You gonna buy something Mr. Darkwing?"

"Um, no thank you Mr. Muddlefoot I-"

"Aw why not? This is quality tupperware! Do I need to explain their functions again?"

"NO!" The four villains shouted simultaneously. "He'll buy something," Megavolt assured the door-to-door salesman as Quackerjack and Bushroot kept the hero silent.

"Oh that's great what'll he buy?"

Megavolt smiled in a way that looked more frightening than happy and said, "Oh I think he wants a Wonder Box, maybe two. Don't you think so Liquidator?"

"Of course, why spend your valuable time deciding on what to buy, when you can take the fast and ill-meaning advice of your greatest enemy." the watery dog stretched a hand out to the retrained mallard, "Hand over the alloted amount of money, or this offer will inflate."

"That or you can listen to another hour of _him_." Quackerjack added with a laugh.

After yanking himself from their clutches, Darkwing reached into the chest pocket of his purple coat and pulled out a few bills. After his business was concluded, Herb headed back to, where else, the T.V. Darkwing rolled his eyes and tossed the little pink container out the open window he had entered in. He folded his hands, stretched his arms, and cracked his knuckles. "Not to worry, it is time to put my master plan into action!" He rolled up his sleeves and started heading toward Herb menacingly.

Bushroot's eyes widened and he grabbed the hero's arm, "Darkwing, I didn't think that I had to warn _you _of all people, but _please _don't kill the man."

"I'm not going to kill him, Bushy. Let me go and you'll see the pinnacle of perfect plans made by the masterful mind of Darkwing Duck!"

The botanist let the shorter mallard go with a groan. There was no helping that ego. The fearsome four watched, unimpressed, as Darkwing snuck behind the T.V.

There was a pause, and then the T.V. went black. "Hey!" Herb shouted compulsively, "What happened ta' the T.V.?"

"Oh no!" Darkwing came out from behind the T.V., an obviously fake expression of dismay on his face, "It seems that the television is broken. I guess there will be no more T.V. until Bushroot can call an electrician."

Megavolt took a quick glance at the back of the T.V. and saw that Darkwing had just taken the plug out of the socket. _Please, like he'll fall for that. Even someone like __**Herb **__isn't __**that **__thick. _

However, Herb had stood up and walked over to the back of the T.V. "Looks like you're right Mr. Darkwing." he looked up a Bushroot, "Looks like your T.V. is fried bushy-Buddy."

"Yep yep yep." Darkwing said, as he sauntered over to the villains, dusting off his hands, "No T.V. No Herb. It's that simple."

Quackerjack, who was now bouncing on his pogo stick, shrugged, "Looks like Ducky here might be onto something."

Just after the words came out of the mouth of the demented jester, Herb called, "No need ta worry about callin' an electrician though. I'll have 'er fixed up in a jiffy!" And with that the fat mallard pulled the backing off of the T.V. and began to pug and unplug wires.

"Oh just great," Bushroot threw up his hands, "not only is he still here, he's going to wreck my T.V. too. Nice work Brainiac."

Darkwing rubbed the back of his head, things were getting out of hand. He was a super hero for crying out loud! Not Herb's babysitter. Besides, Launchpad was probably done with the sewers, and (as much as he hated to admit it) the villains weren't doing anything particularly sinister. Not to mention, Gosalyn was going to need dinner... in about two hours, but still. He nodded inwardly, having made enough excuses to appease his ego, and turned to the villains. "Well, I have concluded that you are not doing anything illegal. So I'll just go now."

Bushroot's mouth dropped, "Wait a second! What about that whole 'I must protect the innocent' stuff that you gabbed on about before?"

"On careful consideration of all the evidence I have concluded that Herb is a grown duck who can handle himself, and therefore is completely not in need of my protection. Bye!"

"But you can't-!" There was a puff of smoke that signified Darkwing's hasty exit, cutting off whatever the mutant was going to say. Once the smoke cleared, there was no sign that the terror that flaps in the night had ever visited. Well, except that Herb was slowly dismantling the T.V., of course.

Bushroot sighed and sat on the couch, he had stolen good money to get that T.V. A liquid arm was placed around his viney shoulders as the Liquidator boomed, "Feeling tired? Annoyed? Now, after a slight interlude, The Liquidator is ready to take his turn at this time of Four-O-Clock. Operators are standing by after his victory to receive your praise. It's time to act now!"

()()()()()()()()()()()

A/N: Ahh yes, the torture will go on! Licky style! The LP scene is actually a little angsty plot idea that is bouncing around my skull. So yeah, just thought I'd tell you. Why? No idea! Hope you enjoyed this chapter and Thank You to all the people that have left reviews for my little fic. They're a great encouragement and help to me!


	5. The Fine Print

A/N: …Hi. So I have absolutely no excuse for not updating except for laziness, writers block, and Halloween… Oh wait that's three excuses. Anywho, thanks for your patience. Once I got my rain in gear I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Yep, yep, yep DWD is not mine and yada yada yada don't sue me yada yada yada. Have fun!

()()()()()()()()()()()

Chapter 5

Darkwing beat a hasty retreat, muttering curses. He was extremely angry at how his evening was going. Not only had he wasted a full _hour _of time just milling around a bunch of his arch enemies, but he also had to endure _Herb _on top of it all. His bumbling neighbor had made the situation extra hard to work with. After all, any of the villains could have easily used the fat mallard as a bargaining chip if Darkwing had gotten too feisty; forgetting the fact, of course, that the hero had now left the nuisance alone with the villains again. Not to mention, Herb had been especially... himself that night. What hero could work under that kind of torture? He would have liked to seen Gizmoduck, his metal crime-fighting rival from Duckberg, last as long as an hour with those five.

He sighed, frustrated, _I'm never going to be able to tell LP about what happened._ _I guess I'll have to lie- Erm I mean, give a __**slightly **__different perspective of the story to_ _him. _He nodded and continued to the manhole cover where he had agreed to meet his sidekick. Once he was there, however, he froze in place. The manhole was surrounded by cops. The boys (and girls) in blue were everywhere; making notes, peering into the manhole, pushing some very shady looking men into the back of their cars, simply _everywhere_.

Now slightly concerned for his friend, Darkwing pushed past two uniformed ducks, who looked like it was their first day on the job, and looked around for his sidekick. He soon saw the tall muscular duck talking to some female police dog. "Launchpad!"

The sidekick turned at the sound of his name and waved cheerfully at Darkwing, beckoning him over. "Hey DW!"

"Hey LP... uh, what's this all about?"

"Well you'll never believe this, but I just helped stop an elusive mob boss and his gang. Apparently these guys were being really slippery and the police couldn't find their hideout. So, while I was looking for that energy surge in the sewers I found," he gestured to the scowling men in the backs of the police cars, "these guys. And the rest is history."

"And what good luck it was that he did," said the female canine beside him. She shook Launchpad's hand, "Thank you for your help Mr. McQuack, we appreciate your dedication to the city."

Darkwing gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at the woman's words, _so I patrol_ _the city, work myself to death, sustain heavy injuries and never get any thanks. But_ _suddenly my __**sidekick **__goes and busts a mob by __**accident, **__and suddenly he's a public_ _hero?_

Launchpad noticed the complete meltdown that his friend was about to go into, almost seeing steam come out of the enraged mallard's ears, and quickly waved off the woman's praise, "Aw it was nothing, really. I just got lucky when I stumbled in on them. I _really didn't do anything at all_."

"In any case thank you," she said as she walked away.

Darkwing, who was still frozen in place by his anger, was snapped out of his dark brooding by the sound of his sidekick's voice.

"Anyway DW I didn't find any super villains in the sewers. How'd you fare?"

The masked mallard's anger deflated and his demeanor became slightly sheepish, "Uh, well I found them..."

"Were they up to anything?"

"Nope, no, not a thing, at least, nothing illegal." he shrugged, "I'm sure if they _were _planning anything they quickly canceled it knowing that Darkwing Duck was on to them!"

"I'll bet," Launchpad agreed.

Darkwing glanced at his sidekick sharply, looking for any trace of sarcasm, but there was none. There never was. He felt a slight pang of shame at his jealousy earlier, but quickly shook it off like always. "Yep yep yep," he grunted as he swung himself onto the seat of The Ratcatcher, "C'mon LP let's go back and report to Director Hooter ASAP!

()()()()()()()()()()()

"Hey Bushy-Buddy, you got a wrench anywhere?"

Bushroot smiled weakly and shook his head in the negative at the duck across the room, "Nope, sorry Herb." The large door-to-door salesman shrugged and turned back to his fix-it project. In truth, the botanist did own a wrench, but he wasn't about to give it to Herb, who still hadn't figured out that the T.V. had only been unplugged. _Of_ _course, it probably wouldn't turn on even if it was plugged in now, thanks to him. _He rolled his eyes, that fat duck was the thickest person he had ever met in his life.

The Liquidator was pacing- or to be more correct gliding- back and forth a little ways away from the table that the plant mutant was sitting at. Every now and again Bushroot would see him come up with a plan, rush over to Herb, talk animatedly, have Herb decimate the plan, and come back to his pacing. Other than the Liquidator's activities and Herb's occasional question, the greenhouse was silent. This was because the two loudest members of the Fearsome Five were gone. Yes, gone. Quackerjack had, naturally, gotten bored with waiting around and, dragging his electrical partner in crime with him, had left. The demented jester had assured the Liquidator that he was positive of the canine's failure and therefore didn't want to wait around while said dog... well... failed. Megavolt had no qualms with leaving, as he wanted to get back to his luminaries, but made sure to warn the Liquidator that both he and Quackerjack would want the assurance of Bushroot before they would believe that the watery dog had succeeded to get rid of the annoyance, if he claimed to do so.

The plant manager sighed, he was glad for the peace. Things had been hectic and stressful around his home all day. And to think, all of it started with one huge door-to-door salesman and a wish for someone to talk to. _Of course, _he thought, _I can't count_ _on this peace to last._

Just as he was going to continue with the calculations that he had been working on, he heard Liquidator, who was standing over Herb, say. "Seven out of eight firemen suggest that you shouldn't have those two wires next to each other- Oh! I'm sorry! Polls are closed, there's the fire."

Bushroot shrugged, though he was deathly afraid of it, he knew the Liquidator could handle a tiny fire. So he wasn't going to wor-

"Fire? Fire. FIRE!" Herb shouted, completely panicking and rushing towards the door. He only paused to stuff all of his wares into his large bag, and then booked for the outside as fast as his chubby legs could take him.

"Um... Licky? Did you get it?"

"Sh! Inquiring minds want to know, has he gone?"

"Yep I think so. He was out of here in two seconds. Good jo-"

"Don't worry Bushy-buddy I'm comin' back for ya!" Herb boomed and rushed back into the greenhouse like a SWAT trainee. He ran to the table that Bushroot was sitting at, picked the plant-duck up easily, tucked him under a large arm, and left by crashing unnecessarily through a window. The Liquidator was frozen in place, for a moment completely dumbfounded. Then the canine started to laugh at Herb's show of "heroics" and doused the small fire easily with a wave of his arm.

Outside, Herb was still running. "Herb? HERB! You can stop now!" Bushroot shouted at the duck, annoyed. But still, he was touched that Herb had "come back" for him, even after he had gotten his Quackerware out. No one he could think of, maybe besides the Liquidator, would ever do something that that for him. _I guess Herb isn't so_ _bad after all_. He mused, though his previous annoyance came back quickly when Herb threw him on the ground and tried to administer CPR. "Ah! Herb, No! I'm fine, I really don't even use my lungs! Back off!" he directed a couple of vines to lift the duck away from him and stood up, looking around.

They were only about halfway down the hill, even after Herb had run full speed, so at least it would not be a problem to get back. He glanced at Herb, who was still lifted about a foot off the ground by his plants, the large duck had his goofy smile back on and was wheezing from his run, "So you oka- okay Bushy-Bud- Buddy?"

"Right as rain," he chuckled at the ridiculous picture of the large panting duck. He told the vines to let him down, which they did gladly, and walked up to him, "Are _you_ okay?"

"Oh yeah, just fine. You think Mr. Liquinator got out?"

"Well, seeing as he is _made of water_, I think he probably took care of the problem instead."

"You're pro'bly right. Let's go make sure!" Herb then cheerfully began the task of climbing the hill.

Giving in to the inevitable, Bushroot shrugged and followed his nuisance.

()()()()()()()()()()()

Gosalyn was bored out of her mind. There was nothing to do. She changed the channel on the T.V. and flipped over onto her stomach. Her best friend, Honker, sat next to her on the blue couch reading a quantum physics book. She turned to him with a yawn. "Hey Honk, I'm bored."

The young genius looked up from the book and at his best- if not only- friend, "Well Gosalyn I told you not to aim the baseball, hockey puck, football, soccer ball, basketball, croquet ball, tennis ball, and volley ball at that old man's house. He confiscated them all, _and _he's going to tell your dad about the holes."

"Well he didn't have to be such a grouch about it, sheesh. Anyway, how about we go wait for my dad at the Tower? I bet he'll have a great story to tell when he gets back. Maybe he will have had an epic duel with a zombie, or stopped an alien invasion, c'mon let's go!" She hopped onto one of the large chairs and motioned for Honker to join her.

"No thanks Gosalyn. You know I don't like to ride those chairs, no offense to your dad. Besides, I need to be getting home."

"Aw, okay. See ya Honk!" Gosalyn waved and punched the top of the Basil statue, making the chairs spin. Due to the motion, she was flung into the pipe that led to the Tower.

When the young girl came to a stop in the identical replica of the chair she started in, she hopped up and looked for her dad. He hadn't shown up yet. She sighed and walked around, trying to find something to do. She settled with using one of her father's office chairs as a makeshift skateboard.

Just as she was about to attempt a kick-flip off the Thunderquack, the Ratcatcher pulled into the Tower. "Hey Dad! Hey Launchpad!" she shouted while she hopped off of the chair.

Darkwing climbed off of the motorbike and looked at his daughter sternly as he put up his helmet, "Gosalyn? Where's Honker? Why are you here anyway? I thought we had an understanding about the Tower young lady!"

"Honk had to go home, and come _on _Dad, lighten up! I was bored." Gosalyn saw that her reasoning wasn't working and switched tactics, "And aren't you glad to see me? Your only and adoring daughter, who was alone with no supervision, and only wanted to see her dad after he had a case?"

Drake rolled his eyes, "Uh-huh, yeah. Good to see you too kiddo, but we are still going to have a talk about this at home. I know your sweet talk too well."

"Bummer. Anyway, what took you? Some great bad guy stuff?"

"No there wasn't anything going on, Launchpad just wanted to stop at Hamburger Hippo before we came home."

Launchpad, who had just finished his fifth hamburger, climbed out of the motorcycle, shrugged, and smiled at Gosalyn, "Sorry Gos, but when a man's gotta eat, a man's gotta eat!"

"Yeah sure whatever Launchpad. So Dad you gonna call Director Hooter or what?"

"Yes I am. LP can you take Gos back home?"

"WHAT! No way Dad, I've already had to miss out on one cool secret agent thing, I don't want to miss another!"

"Nope, nope, nope young lady. This is top secret stuff. Just anyone can't hear what goes on between the Director and his top agents."

"Well that's good then, I can listen because you're not a top agent!"

"Why you!"

Launchpad stepped in before an argument started, "Why don't you let her DW. After all, as you said, we really don't have anything to report anyway."

"Weeeell, fine, but you have to stay out of sight with Launchpad. Okay?"

"Keen gear! Fine with me. Thanks Dad!" When she and Launchpad were behind the Ratcatcher, where they could see without being seen, she added, "Thanks Launchpad, this is mondo cool!"

"No problem Gos. Okay be quiet, your Dad is contacting Hooter now."

Gosalyn watched as the screen went fuzzy for a moment. Then a moment more. And yet another moment more. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." Darkwing muttered as he banged the keyboard with a fist.

Suddenly, a woman appeared on the large computer, "J. gander Hooter's office who is contacting please?"

"More like who are you! What are you doing in J. Gander's office?" Darkwing asked, pointing an accusatory finger at the woman.

"My job sir." Gosalyn could tell that the poor woman just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the inflamed crime fighter. Instead, she cleared up the misunderstanding, "I am Cairina Quack, Director Hooter's secretary."

"Oh! A-hem, sorry about that."

"It is understandable, Mr.?"

"Darkwing, Darkwing Duck."

"Ah yes Mr. Darkwing. What do you need?"

"Well I wanted to give my report to J. Gander. Is he there?"

"No, and I am not to give his whereabouts to anyone-"

"What? That's preposterous! I the caped crime fighter go out of my way to check out a disturbance for him and then he goes and-"

"_Mr. Darkwing_," Gosalyn saw the woman's professionalism break down a little as she allowed herself an eye roll, "you did not let me finish. He said I am not to give his whereabouts to anyone _except _you."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh' is right. Now, you can leave a message with me, which I strongly advise, or I can patch you through to his home, which I do not think you should do."

"I thank you for your concern citizen, but I would prefer to give J. Gander the message personally."

"Might I say again that you would be better to leave the message with me."

"Nope. Gander. Now."

"Very well, one moment please. Have a nice day."

Gosalyn snickered at the secretary's relieved face that was visible for the two seconds that it took for her to press a button. The female duck seemed glad that she did not have to deal with the masked mallard anymore. The computer's screen was fuzzy again; Darkwing drummed his fingers against the keyboard impatiently.

When Hooter finally came on the screen it was only his head instead of the usual head and shoulders shot. Gosalyn thought there was something off about the director of S.H.U.S.H, but decided to keep quiet. "Who is it?" he asked in a distracted tone, looking off screen.

"Um, yes J. Gander? It's Darkwing."

That got the director's attention. His head snapped over to look at the masked duck in front of him. Face reddening, Hooter stammered, "O-oh Hello Darkwing! You're back already? G-good."

Gosalyn looked at the adult next to her, "Hey Launchpad, is Director Hooter acting weird? Maybe he's been turned into a zombie!" Launchpad just hushed her so she turned back to the conversation between Darkwing and Hooter. Her dad was spouting something about "checking out the perimeter" and then "finding nothing of alarm in the area" and so Hooter "has nothing to worry about" of course that was natural as the director had "Darkwing Duck the deducing devastator of delinquents" on his side.

Gosalyn rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the recipient of the speech. There was no arguing about it, the old owl was acting strange. Using her vast experience with all things undead, the gosling tried to diagnose J. Gander's problem. Not a zombie bite, he was too coherent. Not vampire, the sun on his end was hitting him in full. Werewolf? No, werewolf bites only make you more irritable. Perhaps an alien mind brainwashing? Yeah that was it! She was just about to share this theory with Launchpad when she realized something, "Launchpad, is the director wearing a shirt?"

At about the same time his daughter realized it, Darkwing did as well, "Uh... J? Are you wearing a shirt?"

"What! Oh of course I'm w-wearing a shirt," he laughed nervously, "why would you say something like that?"

_Why would J. lie about what he was, or wasn't, wearing? _Darkwing pondered, _Let's see, he is flustered, embarrassed, secretive, he was with Dr. Bellum earlier today,_ _went home early, and now he's not wearing a shirt... _The caped crusader's eyes widened as he put two and two together, _...oh._

"Well J. Gander that is my report. I think I should be going. You know, never a minutes rest and all that... uh… if you have nothing else to say?"

"No, nothing Darkwing. Thank you, good-bye." the screen turned off instantly.

"Ew DAD! He wasn't wearing a shirt! Old guy body! _Gross_!" Gosalyn fake gagged as she and Launchpad came out from behind the motorbike.

"Gosalyn, don't insult Director Hooter, or his erm... body," he exchanged a glance with Launchpad and saw that his sidekick had come to the same conclusion he had, "It's time to get back home. You go first Gos. LP and I will come after."

"Kay Dad, see ya on the flip side!" she bolted to the chairs and was soon spun out of sight.

Hero looked at sidekick, unsure of what to say. Finally, Launchpad smiled and said it for him, "How about we never talk about what just happened back there again."

"Ever," Darkwing agreed. He stretched and yawned, it had been a weird day. He looked at his sidekick shrewdly, "Can I trust you and Gos to not blow up the kitchen while I take a nap?"

"Sure DW, I'm getting hungry. So we'll be extra careful not to ruin the food."

"You're crazy LP, you know that? You just ate _five _hamburgers."

His side kick shrugged as they walked over to the chairs. Just when they had sat down, Launchpad hopped up again, "One sec DW. I just remembered something!" Darkwing watched in curiosity as the large duck ran over to the sidecar and pulled something out of one of one of the compartments. When Launchpad turned around Darkwing saw none other than the Wonder Box he had been forced to purchase in the duck's large hands. "LP where did you get that?"

"This? Well you see, some of those mob members tried to run. Naturally, I helped by chasing one of those goons. After I had tackled one of them, I found this little baby just lying on the ground. Come to think of it, we were about halfway up the hill to Bushroot's greenhouse. You must've been still up there then. Heh, weird. It never occurred to me at the time." He shrugged his muscled shoulders, "I thought it could be useful, it seems durable enough to last a while."

Too dumbfounded for words, Darkwing shrugged and sighed while his friend examined the little pink box happily, and the two followed the young gosling to their home, ready to take a well earned break.

()()()()()()()()()()()

"An' that's when I realized that the darn thing needed batteries!" Herb broke into his obnoxious laughter while Bushroot let out a rather forced chuckle. The two were sitting at one of the tables playing Go Fish, Herb's favorite card game, with the cards that Quackerjack had left behind. The Liquidator was in a puddle resting (Bushroot called it sulking) over next to the formula and had just about given up on getting Herb out. It was Four Fifty-five, and Bushroot had resigned himself to being stuck with the large duck until he chose to leave.

"That's funny Herb. Now it's _still _your turn."

"Oh okay Bushy-Buddy... Got any sevens?"

"Herb you've asked me that the past three times, and the answer is still no. I don't have any sevens. Go fish."

Herb smiled and took another card from the deck. He was horrible at the game, but for some reason he still enjoyed it. Bushroot was about to ask him for any Jacks that he might have when Herb seemed to remember something, "Hey Bushy-Buddy, do you know what time it is?"

"Research shows that it is five 'till four," came the sullen voice of the Liquidator from the corner.

"Thanks Mr. Liquinator!" the Liquidator growled at that, but Herb did pay any attention to him, "I didn't know it was that late already! I guess time flies when you're having fun 'ey Bushy?"

"Oh yeah it just _soars_," Bushroot said sarcastically, knowing it would go over the fat mallard's head. However, he realized with awe, he actually _had _been having fun with Herb, at least for a moment. He heard a rush of water and turned out of his musing to see the Liquidator up and about, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Bushroot turned to what his watery companion was looking at and was shocked to see that Herb was packing up again, he had unpacked after the little fire incident for some reason completely unknown to the two mutants. The fat door-to-door salesman finished putting up his wares and faced the two villains. "Well, it's about time for me ta get goin' home!" he grasped the Liquidator's watery hand as best as he could and gave it a good shake.

Bushroot also put out his own leaf-like appendage and had it pumped up and down painfully as Herb said his good-byes, "Well Bushy-Buddy, taday was very educational. I'm sure you learned plenty of in'tresting things right?"

"Oh yeah, tons. Thanks Herb."

"See? I told'ya that you could use some educational T.V. and comp'ny. Sorry that your T.V. just broke out of tha blue like that though."

"Don't worry about it," Bushroot smiled, feeling a twinge of regret, as the duck picked up his case and walked out the door. Herb really was something. And even though their "friendship" started out rocky, the guy had (forgive the pun) grown on him. Herb was, if you spent enough time around him, a quality duck. Not to mention completely fair with everyone, no matter what they looked like. Bushroot appreciated that quality the most from the annoying, oblivious, bumbling, huge, clumsy duck. He looked out the window and saw that Herb was about a fourth of the way down, and waving back up at the greenhouse. He returned the wave and turned around to where the Liquidator was standing.

"Well, I guess no one wins."

"Ah ah ah! Not necessarily, read all of the recommendations on the prescription before making your final judgement!"

"But- but- but Herb left by himself."

"Ask yourself, 'Who told him the time?', 'Who's turn did he leave on?', 'Who-"

"What are you getting at?"

"Ten out of ten exterminators say that the Liquidator is victorious! Or he is as far as our other competitors know!"

"That won't work. Remember, Megavolt is going to check with me for confirmation," the Liquidator kept staring at him, "Why are you? ...No, no, _no_. I am _not _going to lie for you!"

"For this time only, the Liquidator will offer three reasons why it won't be a lie. And wait!" he added when it looked like Bushroot was going to interrupt, "there's more!"

"What is it?"

"The un-be-lievable option of keeping your share after The Liquidator collects his profits! Not only will it allow you to keep up with your greenhouse and all of it's inhabitants like normal, but you will have assisted your favorite watery partner in crime in the process!"

"You're shameless," Bushroot chided the dog, holding back a grin, "but, okay. What are your explanations to put my conscience at ease?"

"Well Reginald Bushroot, come on down! Listen to the reasons that The Great Liquidator has come up with! Reason number one is the irrefutable fact that it was on The Liquidator's turn that the annoyance left! Reason number two is that The Liquidator was the one to point out the time to Herb, therefore causing him to leave! Reason number three," Liquidator cast him a sly look before shrinking, widening his eyes, and drooping his ears, "is the fact that The Liquidator _is _your favorite watery partner in crime, after all."

"GAH! The puppy dog eyes. It should be illegal for dogs to use that. Dogs made out of water especially."

"The polls show that, should there be a law of that caliber, The Liquidator would break it anyway," the H2O infused canine quipped while drooping his ears slightly more.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have a condition."

"Which is?"

"I want half of Quackerjack's share as well."

The ex-salesman straightened out of his puppy dog look and smiled his usual, wide business smile, and stuck out a hand, "The Liquidator agrees to those terms! Now, Deal? Or no Deal?"

"Deal," Bushroot said as he grabbed the watery hand, "So, what'll we tell the other two?"

"Leave that to The Liquidator! The Surgeon General suggests that you just nod and smile while The Liquidator explains."

Bushroot nodded and saw the Liquidator off. He sighed and stood there for a moment before gasping, "My experiment!" and rushing off to tend to it, Spike, who had come out now that the commotion was over and the people were gone, at his wooden heels.

()()()()()()()()()()()

**Three days later. **

"Yeah Drakester it's true! An' did'ya know that World War II, or tha Sec'nd WorldWar, was a global military conflict lastin' from 1939 ta 1945 which involved most of thaworld's nations, such as Quacktopolis, Beakapotamia, and lots more! Tha powers organizedinta two opposing military alliances: the Ducklies and the Duckxis. Did'ya knowthat?"

"No wow, that is interesting," droned Drake for what felt like the hundredth timethat evening. The short duck hadn't seen his bumbling neighbor since The GreenhouseIncident, as he was calling it, and the larger duck was spouting useless information likea Mr. Trivia Buff doll. He sighed, when the truth had come out and Launchpad had convinced him to go pay Herb aquick visit to make sure that he was okay after The Greenhouse Incident, he shouldhave pretended to get the Bubonic plague, or something. He should have known, therewere no quick visits when it came to his neighbors. Any visit to the Muddlefoots was along visit. The doorbell rang and Herb got up with a cheery "I'll get it!". Drake breathed asigh of relief, glad to be rid of Herb for the moment, and turned on the T.V., flipping tothe news.

"**...Tom Lockjaw here, and we are still broadcasting news on the Fifth National** **Bank break-in that happened two hours ago. It is believed to have been** **orchestrated by the Fearsome Five, but police say that there has been no solid** **evidence found to support that theory. And now we go to Crazy Quacky O'Beakly** **with the weather-"**

Drake quickly turned off the T.V. and leapt into action. After making some excuse to Binky, he bolted out the back door, ready to catch those crooks for actually _doing_ something this time.

At the front door, Herb was looking at a small sack that had just been dropped at his doorstep. As he bent down to pick it up he realized that there was a note next to it. He took the little piece of paper in one hand and the sack in another and read.

_This is for the clients I lost you while you kept me "comp'ny". Don't mention_ _where, or who, you got this from to __**anyone**__, not even your wife. If anything, tell them_ _that it was a gift from a very satisfied customer. Have a good summer!_

_-R.B._

_P.S.- I would recommend, for your own sake, that you don't come by the greenhouse_ _all that much. Fraternizing with a villain and all of that, you know._

Herb looked up and down the street, there was no sign of life. He scratched his head and opened the sack. What he saw nearly made his eyes pop out of their sockets. "Hey Drakester!" he turned around, saw that Drake was gone, shrugged, and called to his wife, "Binky! You won't believe this, but we're goin' on a cruise this summer!"

Across the street, one mutant-plant duck smiled at the joyful and surprised cheers that were coming from the house. After slinging his own sack onto a shoulder, he bent down, patted the venus flytrap at his roots, and chuckled, "Come on Spike, the others will be hungry. Let's get home."

()()()()()()()()()()()

A/N: WHOO! So I finally finished. Honestly I had this ending in mind from the beginning, it came out better then I thought it would. I can't wait to hear of what you think of my little story and I would like to thank all of my readers/reviewers! You guys were a huge encouragement when I was writing. So… THANKS and see ya later!


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